#✨ shimmering shorts ✨

[luminescentlyricist]

🎠 Petals, Sticks And Stones 🎠

While the idea for the Sparkslide Circus troupe, Carrie and Homura belong to me, Kazuki and Dahlia actually belong to @c4ndystarz and @maimai020104 respectively! Go give them the incredible amount of love they deserve.

~~

The pounding in Carrie Astor’s chest was unavoidable. She’d awoken with that pain for many nights in a row, gasping for air like she’d been choking. But there were things to do as morning broke, so it usually culminated in her simply rolling back over in her bed to get what little rest she could. This time, though, she sat up. Fingers curling loosely to grip the sheets, she hauled her tired body further upwards to rest against the headboard. A groan of protest parted her lips, as was normal for that early in the morning, but she doubted the show would wait for her to get her beauty sleep. And even if it did, on a rare occasion indeed, there were people who expected more from her than laziness. Although she hadn’t been assigned a specific role in the Sparkslide Circus’ troupe, doing whatever was needed to fill in the gaps between all manner of excuses, the variety instilled in her a hunger to continue moving forward.

It was this hunger that kept her awake at all hours of the night, tossing and turning until the sheets tangled around her legs and she had to sit up to fix them. She craned her head to look out the window, crinkling her nose in distaste at the thin beam of morning light beginning to invade her peaceful darkness. Still eager to avoid whatever laborious tasks Homura - the troupe’s Ringmaster and her father, no less - had in store, the young woman groaned louder. Her throat was sore from the last night’s performances, as she’d been kept up talking with a few of the other members before being taken aside by him and given an earful of additional tasks.

The work wasn’t thankless.

Her thoughts shifted towards her friends in the troupe as she fumbled about for a stray glass of water on her nightstand, narrowly avoiding knocking it over a small music box she kept there. Taking a long and grateful sip, the performer found herself reminiscing about the origins of the trinket. It had been a gift from one Kazuki Rosario, the troupe’s own self-professed ‘master’ aerialist and first companion to Carrie when she’d begun her own forays into the world beneath the stage-lights. She’d had to patch it up many a time, of course, owing to her disastrous strokes of misfortune, but they never seemed to mind when she repetitively apologised. If anything, the meetings were only an excuse for them to bond in what little leisure time they were given. No matter what, he seemed to tease a smile out of her.

She would’ve wished to meet with him, then, but looking at the sorry state of the music box reminded her of just how irritable he could get early in the day. It wasn’t their fault. Nobody truly got enough sleep in the troupe, and that wasn’t even on her father’s list of concerns. He only wanted to present something good to the people, no matter what expenses and stresses were piled onto his loyal performers. Kaz had been an active member in shows for as long as Carrie’s memory stretched, however poor, though they were both similar in age to one another. Neither of them got any special treatment, despite the many years they’d worked together - and Carrie’s inevitable closeness to the forefront of the show.

Swinging her legs a few more times, the only thing left to do was greet the day that hadn’t yet arrived. Now, with mind racing, she looked at the clock on the wall. Six o’clock was definitely earlier than she would’ve liked to be up and moving, but was just late enough to leave little room for boredom. If she wasn’t already planning something, people could tell her things to be done. Or, of course, she could invade any number of the other tents that she’d been given a key to. Supplies always needed replenishing in the communal prop tent, no matter the number of resourceful clowns who only worried about their own. Thus, she stood up, immediately swaying in protest.

“Good grief. You’re not going to die from a few chores, Miss Carrie.”

With a croaking voice the woman scolded herself, turning back to neaten the sheets of the bed and grimacing at the comparatively loud shifting of the mattress. Everything was grating for a time, just until she could put the music box on and soothe herself with the melody. Though it often stuttered and the handle was nearly falling off, a touch of paint (on top of some luck with tinkering) would do its job. The tune it produced was akin to a lullaby, something soft that urged one almost to sleep. For Carrie, it was a reminder of the shows that Kaz was in. The ways the silk and hoops moved in synchrony with her friend’s body was just as captivating, and she recognised it as one of their own tracks. Usually, there were musical sets already in place, but rules never mattered too much to Kaz. 

Boy, they’d had to fight her father to get that permission…

A small smile rested on her face as she worked, deciding not to touch the box for the time being. Things that were precious were few and far between, and she feared each handle-crank would be the one to stop the music for good. Instead, Carrie pulled on her shoes and fumbled tying the laces in the dark, guided only by the mocking sliver of light from her stubborn curtains. It wasn’t easy in the best days, due to certain dexterity issues she’d always had. Far more humiliating, however, would be anything falling off in the middle of a show. The thought alone made her shudder as she straightened, swinging her right leg a few times and sighing in relief. That one was a prosthetic, owing to an accident in her early childhood that remained in her mind as little more than a blur of pain and darkness.

Though they were sure their parents wouldn’t refuse to tell them if they asked for clarification on the subject, it made her nervous anyway. Happiness was preferable in their family, in their lives, and to jeopardise that would only consume Carrie with gnawing guilt. It was just one of many things she’d learnt to make herself blend in. No privileges were consciously given to her as an Astor, and she intended to keep it that way. Her dear friend would have even less time to stay and talk, to brighten the skies when her muscles ached, and that wasn’t something she was willing to trade away for a ripple of hope on the horizon.

She opened the curtains for later, hoping that the weather would hold and not present too much of a damper on the mood. It was harder for her to bring people happiness when it didn’t have a reason to personally exist. No matter how many tricks she employed, sadness was the easiest thing for an audience to spot under the glaring lights. The various friends that she walked alongside helped fend back the misery, and it was more than she could ever ask for.

Shaking herself back to reality, the performer busied herself with leaving the tent that served as her lodgings. Though each appeared to be a miniaturised red-and-white circus tent, the walls were solid and structure akin to any other room. Her eyes continued to sweep around anxiously like she hadn’t seen the interior a million times over. A small vase sat on the desk, housing three small blooms. One was a spider-lily that she’d plucked from a miscellaneous show’s congratulatory gifts, finding the colour and design striking. The last two were given to her on seperate occasions. Homura had handed her the strangely wilting dahlia just the day prior, an infuriatingly sly expression that she’d wanted to slap off his face along with it. He’d mentioned that there was a new arrival coming soon, and she’d need the reminder. Of course he had to be cryptic and obnoxious, despite a genuine attempt to do something nice for her.

The other was a rose.

Kazuki had given her many roses, and it’d become a lasting symbol of their bond. It was a shame that Carrie didn’t have a green thumb, but she did the best she could remembering to water them. Many were even de-thorned, to the best of the aerialist’s ability, and he’d announce his arrival with a string of muttered curses more often than not. The oft-necessary first-aid kit in one’s cupboard was an asset to both performers. Her fingers paused in the air reaching for the flower, and she had to remind herself that time wouldn’t pause for her silly whims. It would be safer to leave it out of the buzz and rush of preparations. So she exited the tent with a notable drag in her step, leaving soothing thoughts of rosy fields and sunlight behind along with it.

Of course it was beginning to rain. The light that streamed into her tent had been cold and grey, though she’d not taken any notice of it because of her prior squinting protest. She’d forgotten to bring an umbrella, but that was something trivial. Judging by the steady emergence of people into the main area, it was time to work, and preparations for shows didn’t stop because of the sun’s refusal to shine. It was a pain, seeing as Carrie herself had reservations about being vulnerable in bad weather, but she was only a cog in the entertainment machine. Things wouldn’t work as smoothly without her. With this in mind, she looked toward the only different tent in the vicinity (save for the titular Big Top) and made a note to avoid it for the time being.

Homura insisted on being the centre of everything whenever possible, sly and ‘quiet’ though he was, and it really got on her nerves. Of course he worked in the shadows, puppeteering the lives of the people he claimed to love, but the spotlight was ultimately his - not even his family’s. For this reason, his tent was a measure bigger than the others, draped in navy and gold to contrast those around it. Carrie didn’t want to disturb him when she could continue silently, as she was his personal favourite errand-runner. It was as if she had no more purpose to him than another prop, and fitted well with his hobbies in the art of hypnotism. Unlike other shows, Carrie’d always thought that her father’s participants weren’t quite as willing.

It meant that not even she was safe, and his influences reached farther than the stage. He was never bragging outwardly, no, though the possibility of having her agency taken with a moment’s notice made a shiver course through her body. So she kept her head down and ran herself ragged to make things as perfect as possible, if only to avoid whatever was in store if she stepped out of line. He forced himself to be calm and collected, but those closest to him knew it was just one of many masks he put on for the public. The ruse could drop when the curtains fell.

The young woman continued toward the Big Top, trying her best to convince herself that the shaking of her legs was only due to the cold. There was a commotion there, with many performers beginning to congregate around the fabric entranceway. Her walking then faltered. It was far too early to deal with such a thing when her voice wasn’t even cooperating. So she changed course, deciding to take her time getting to the supply tent. Though her right hand was uncooperative most days, she wanted to try juggling more. However backwards it seemed, she was sure that training herself to her limits would help new horizons open. She denied the foolishness of these thoughts, especially because her father was happy enough to encourage anything that would make ‘his’ shows more interesting.

Setting down the bag she’d grabbed prior, Carrie begun taking stock of items available. There were walls stacked with teetering piles, some housing equipment she found comfortable and others far beyond her reach. There were more people crowded into the tent, but she paid them no mind. Even after years of being around the circus, the sheer magnitude of tricks and toys they had available tended to make her tune out everything else in captivation. Smoothing her hands over a layered mass of aerial silks, she debated taking some of them and meeting Kazuki for practice. 

The thought was comforting, but she needed to start pushing herself if she was going to make her father happy. He’d told her she wasn’t up to par, and the only way to fix that… He left it to her imagination, which was an unkind thing to do. She thought badly of herself more often than not. After choosing a set of juggling balls emblazoned with various insect shapes and putting them into her bag, she barely had enough time to turn around before a figure called out to her. She was too engrossed to hear what they’d said, nor decipher who it’d been until a hand grabbed her shoulder to shake her away. Strands of pink and blue dyed hair framed the aerialist’s perpetually smiling face as Carrie faced them, though the expression fell into concern seeing her irritated.

“Carrie-“

She shook Kazuki’s touch and attention both away, wordless in her rejection, continuing to walk out of the tent with not a single thought in mind until it finally dawned on her just how rude she’d been. Beginning to turn around to seek his familiar fairy-floss hair in the crowd, she instead stepped on a crag of the pavement before she could find her footing. Roughly falling down, she exclaimed, attempting to brace herself and having one of her habitually-worn gloves slip off. Before she could right herself and begin gathering the juggling balls, an unfamiliar pair of hands stretched down into her vision.

Grateful for the help, Carrie took the performer’s hands into her own and hauled herself upright, bending over to pick up some of the supplies before they escaped her grasp in the increasing throng of people. She paused upon seeing the blades on their belt, however, and the grateful smile that’d bent her lips upward prior wavered. Great. Just what we need - more people doing dangerous acts. Straightening, it came to mind that the figure before her must have been Sparkslide Circus’ new arrival. Before she could speak, however, she was caught up in the subject of her wonder again. Judging by the handles’ sculpt, the knives were crafted specifically for throwing. Carrie was tempted to ask the new arrival whether she could handle the skill, too, but caught her shaking hands in her field of vision too soon.

Absolutely not.

In the suspended moment, Dahlia - the knife-thrower - had taken note of the missing glove, holding it out to Carrie. The other used it to hide a variety of cuts and wounds, the most interesting of which was a still-healing scar running the length of her palm. This was nothing of concern, being one of many such injuries owing to a life of performance coupled with horrendous bad luck. But it managed to capture Dahlia’s attention, for better or worse. While they didn’t want to invade and ask Carrie where they’d sustained the injury, they walked silently alongside the girl as she’d begun to leave. After a moment, Carrie turned toward Dahlia, gesturing vaguely to the Big Top gleaming behind them.

“Sorry about that. The name’s Carrie. The Ringmaster let me know yesterday that there was a new arrival coming to the troupe, but didn’t bother specifying when. He never gives enough attention to the things that actually matter. Thank you for your help.”

Dahlia’s expression was far more gentle than expected, seeing how sharp her skills were bound to be. While Homura didn’t shy away from training those he thought were worth the time, it was oddly rarer still for him to take already-trained members into the ranks. It was riskier, too, being a hypnotist, for him to let anyone slip from his grasp. But he was overconfident. He believed he could pick apart the mind of anyone who came his way, and Carrie only hoped that was a lie. Dahlia only smiled, hesitating before speaking as if planning her words. The other hadn’t wanted to be overwhelming, but their awkward first meeting had thrown a curveball into the typical conversational process.

“Dahlia. You’re sure you’ll be alright?”

Carrie’d chosen to simply nod, the performer’s name ringing in their ears for a moment longer. So that was why their father had given them the flower… though she didn’t think of it as a simply nice gesture in the first place, it would’ve been better for her to be told directly.

“Of course. I’m more used to falling over than your usual person, if anything needs to be said. Do you know why the Big Top is so crowded?”

There was another pause, during which Dahlia’s eyes swept across the girl in front of them and fully took in who she was seeing. She’d not been informed that the Ringmaster of the troupe had any family, but was able to tell there was something odd going on with her. Someone with so many careless injuries didn’t meet the expectations she’d seen from the imposing man, so the only avenue she could reason with was that Carrie had obtained some sort of special permission to be there. It was obvious from their earlier words they were part of the performing members, after all, and not just any member of the crowd.

This didn’t culminate in any judgement - just simple curiosity, the likes of which made their eyes light up as she responded.

“The Ringmaster told me, yesterday upon my arrival on the grounds, that there was going to be a sort of introductory gathering in the Big Top some time the next morning. No other details, as you might guess, but I can’t say I’m surprised that he would want to make a spectacle out of everything possible. As much as I can’t say it within earshot, he seems terribly self-absorbed.”

There was laughter in Dahlia’s words, posing a comfort to Carrie although she didn’t have the courage to mention it. Some of the tension that’d been in her shoulders from the fall (and meeting a stranger in such an embarrassing state) melted away as she took a moment to talk and gain her bearings. Luckily, none of the juggling balls had strayed too far, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to risk using them again.

“He hasn’t shown himself in the Big Top yet, as far as I can tell, so I was going to check if one of the practice tents were set up and keep myself occupied. I’m sure you have your own things to do, Carrie, so I’ll-”

I’ll leave you to it.

The knife-thrower’s words were interrupted by the sound of an exclamation, then a loud and very familiar voice swearing. This made Carrie’s attention pull away from Dahlia, if momentarily, and she frowned deeply.

“On the other hand, I might accompany you. Nothing good can come from someone that raucous.”

Dahlia noted, more than willing to follow her new acquaintance if it meant getting to the source of the fun. She matched Carrie’s pace as they begun to run toward the prop tent, appearing to seek out who exactly had sworn. 

The performer’s eyes were wide, panicked, footfalls heavy against the uneven grass where the tents were pitched. There was no time. She needed to find Kaz before they got hurt, and she had a feeling they already would be. But the tent was silent. Too silent. She glanced back to the knife-thrower, instinctively grabbing their hand for support, one gloved finger coming up to make a shushing motion against her own lips. She couldn’t risk their being found, but she knew better than to take a single step further into the entrance of the tent. It was something of a protective instinct, stemming from all the times she’d been in front of her father’s wrath. 

Evidently, Homura’s plans had changed and he saw no need to notify anyone of the shift. What he said went, and the same rung true if he never talked at all. All the world was his stage, and his alone. He had one hand clamped over his eye, tight enough so that none of the storage tent’s dim illumination was reaching through it. Though Kaz stood back from the Ringmaster, Homura's commanding presence seemed to darken the whole room. On his face there usually sat a large medical eyepatch, strings fraying but otherwise well-kept. This was the only exception to formality he’d ever make in appearance, preferring the large patch over something more stereotypical and pirate-like. It did nothing to lessen how intimidating he was.

Carrie, meanwhile, had wrestled her attention away from the admittedly disturbing scene enough to debate asking Dahlia for a favour. Though it was far too soon for her to be in debt to a fellow performer - someone she couldn’t really escape from - she saw no other option. Maybe, if they could create a diversion, she could free Kaz from whatever conflict they’d unwillingly stepped into. Maybe it would just be safer for her to back out and away, running before the altercation even concerned her. She’d be branded a fool to desert the two, even if it were the better personal choice. She was making the situation much bigger in her head than it had any right to be, yet it was driven by the need to protect someone dear to her.

So she turned to Dahlia, voice little more than a harsh whisper, before loosening her hold. She didn’t want to let go just yet, however, breathing becoming ragged and nervous. They were aiming to be a comfort to the knife-thrower, yes, but to glean comfort in return as well. She took one more step past the doorway, leaving Dahlia standing behind as if guarding her. But there wasn’t time.

Before Carrie could act, there was a flash. Bright. Blinding.

Yes, Rosario, blinding.

The movements of the once-fluid aerialist became staggered. Stiff, inorganic and conveying none of their usual personality. Not suspended, as any dancer would be through the air, but frozen. Trapped.

This sight was something familiar to Carrie, and the young woman’s breath caught in her throat. Why? Why would her father risk it? For something so petty, so inconsequential, he’d become unforgivable. It was not the first time that he’d used his hypnotism in such a way, leaving performers vulnerable and empty-minded, but the fear never ceased to grip his daughter every time she saw it. Her hands became clammy with sweat as she stood numbly, eyes darting around to find any reason for the outburst. And it was there, simply, lying on the floor.

Kazuki had made a fatal mistake.

He wasn’t dead, but might as well have been. The medical patch that the Ringmaster wore had fallen during the two's scuffle earlier, which Carrie hadn’t been around to witness, and she guessed that Kaz had taken it off or caused the bands to somehow snap. She held faith in her friend that he wouldn’t have done something to spite his superior willingly, though Homura’s thinly-veiled insecurities were as fragile as the metaphorical strings now lodged in Kazuki’s shoulders. So he struck out before he thought, more often than not, and it cost him relationships forged organically.

He’d just smile and bear it. So long as people agreed with him, there was no point in having ‘companions’ for any other purpose. ‘Puppets’ were enough.

Feeling Dahlia’s grip loosen around her left hand, Carrie only held it tighter. It took her a precious few seconds more to react properly, but she attempted to pull the knife-thrower away from the prop tent’s opening. They were transfixed, smile left upon their lips, and so she tried again - an anxious tug from the wrist, expression warping into worry as they resisted without response. Even this refused to work, but if there was one thing Homura agreed upon it was that his daughter was stubborn. So he watched her tap the performer’s shoulders, urgency surely almost leaving bruises, but it was all futile. She held tighter to their hand, hoping the warmth would do something. Anything. 

Focus had shifted, and he was simply waiting for her to realise.

The Big Top had fallen silent.

Heads began to crane in the other direction. A million eyes, crowd and performer alike, all glaring straight toward Carrie. She couldn’t see the majority of their faces, but the ones she did know were making her nervous. Even Dahlia’s ice-blue gaze was harder than before. Vacant and unyielding to the effort she’d put into trying to save them. Just how much time Homura had spent under the guise of preparation accomplishing something so terrifying was beyond her, but she could barely think. Twisting her wrist to break her hold on Dahlia, she winced as a crack rung out. Though she hoped nothing was broken, the all-consuming stiffness in the knife-thrower’s body wasn’t natural.

Homura watched this all transpire with a sly smile, knowing well that the stage would be his once more. He bent over at the waist and swiped the medical patch off the floor, deftly tying it to his face and sighing in relief. The darkness comforted him, even if it made his depth perception a lot worse. Craning his neck to look at the motionless aerialist, the soft expression he wore hardened into something more menacing. Sure, he was smiling, but he may as well have had shark teeth. There was nothing genuine about the expression. Kazuki remained still, the only indication of their being awake lying in the steady rise and fall of their chest.

With a wave of Homura’s hand, a nonchalant forward motion, Kazuki fell into step behind the hypnotist. The two left the prop tent, with the smaller swamped in his superior’s shadow. As the man approached his daughter, the greeting was interrupted by Dahlia’s own movement. This too was stilted, nearly stumbling forward, but the ground was smooth enough so that she didn’t fall. Before joining Kaz behind their Ringmaster, she shot Carrie a smile. It was no comfort to the girl, suspended in disbelief and fear as she was. The blades were dull compared to the intimidation hidden in their expression. Still, they took two knives out of their belt and twirled them around in gloved fingers, carelessness shown like they were no more than toys.

But Dahlia and Homura both knew the damage they could do.

“Well… look what a predicament we’re in, Carrie.”

Homura taunted his daughter openly, spreading his arms wide to frame the emerging crowds that had gathered behind him. His tone was soft and alluring to any other, but she knew what it hid. Venom, spat, and harshness beyond measure. It’d hurt his public image, yes, but he’d never been so kind behind the curtains drawn. Control was the only thing he desired. She was his child above anything else, and held that position of influence regardless of any petty trickery.

“Will you join the show?”

In reality, Carrie knew she had no choice. The crowds loomed forward behind her, closing in and pushing her further toward the Ringmaster. A mass of bodies, unidentifiable but brought together by a singular goal.

One mind.

The girl couldn’t muster the courage to respond, even though keeping silent often did more harm than good around him. Instead, she tried to reach out toward where she thought her companions were waiting, however hard it became to see individuals in the swarm of crowd and performer alike. When Homura raised an eyebrow in silent judgement of this action, she faltered, cringing habitually away from the criticism and withdrawing her reach. He took a singular step further toward his daughter, breaking the line of tension between them.

It was in this moment of fearful instinct and clarity that her resolve gave out, and she turned tail. Running through the oppressive crush of bodies, there was nothing she could think about other than finding relief from the hammering in her chest. Usually, Carrie would’ve been able to talk to him at the very least, but she was one performer against the whole circus. The fact that their blank stares were all seeming to judge her was bad enough, and that was something she was sure he knew well. She raised her left arm to shield her eyes from the lashing arms all fighting to grab her, caring little for the injuries that she’d have to deal with later. There wouldn’t be a later if her father got his way.

The crowd never stopped their pursuit, but the only other way to make them stop was to face their Ringmaster. 

She wasn’t about to do that.

Two sets of hands grabbed at her shoulders as she ran toward her tent, one’s scarring familiar and one cloaked in gloves. They didn’t even try to pull her back, even as her pounding steps reached the border of her tent. Twisting to release the harsh grips, she staggered into her room and slid the door closed behind her, falling finally onto the floor and heaving in a choking sob. For a second or two, she debated locking the door, but the howling of noise began to fade away. Whether it was because she was falling asleep or unconscious, she couldn’t tell, but she didn’t particularly care. All that mattered was that the Ringmaster had left her alone.

She wanted badly to crawl into her bed right then and there, but with lucidity came overwhelming pain. Wearily, just as she had that morning, she thought to check the clock. 

Half-lidded and tear-filled eyes swept up towards her desk again, just in time to see the petals fall.

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

✨🔮Black Stallion Magic🔮✨

[astonmartinii]

nonsense... or is it? | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem singer!reader

face claim: sabrina carpenter

based on this request: sooo, anyways,,, i was thinking maybe a smau where Charles is playing the guy who Milo was and this obviously breaks the internet even more and this leads to them dating ??? idk, just like a really wholesome one where she was his celebrity crush and now they're dating bc of them getting know each other more bc of the music video. sorry if this is all over the place but yeah. - @whoreks

MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI?

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,200,441 others

yourusername: holla babes !!! the feather music video is heading your way fast xxx if only my real boyfriends were like my music videos ones ...

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user1: MOTHER

user2: finally music videos are back baby !!

taylorswift: you can still make the whole place shimmer ✨

yourusername: thanks to you baby

user3: oh to be able to call taylor swift baby

user4: y/n's shade is so underrated - i too wish her boyfriends were as good as her mv ones

user5: she's got such a good eye for casting why can't she do this in her actual love life

user6: okay but he's hot based off a single shoulder i'm excited

user7: you got that from a SHOULDER?

user8: he's TALL?

user9: babe y/n is like 4'2 she makes everyone look tall

user10: say what you want about the catholic church, they got the aesthetic down pat

yourbff1: so we aren't asking the mv boyf out? boring.

yourusername: we have lil things called phones? USE IT HOE

user11: charles leclerc in the likes

user12: so true of him

user13: unless he's... the guy

user14: babe he's way too short lol

user15: have yall seen the sky ad? baby aint acting any time soon

yourusername

liked by yourbff1, charles_leclerc and 1,763,550 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: OMG you guys blew the feather music video up !! i'm sure it had nothing to do with this random guy i found off the street? jokes, thank you charles for being the perf mv boyf xx

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user17: HOLY FUCKING SHIT

user18: celeb crush inception no one touch me

charles_leclerc: thank you for my music video debut, maybe you can return the favour one day?

yourusername: i'll return any favour you want

yourbff1: dial down the desperation babe

charles_leclerc: what if i want her to dial it up please?

yourbff1: do NOT encourage her

yourusername: please encourage me :)

user19: Y/N STAND UP PLEASE

user20: actually y/n is so real have yall seen that man YUM

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user21: y/n is a genius for fancasting her future bf in her music video

danielricciardo: THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT? SHARL WHEN I CATCH YOU

pierregasly: and me :( i thought our friendship meant more ....

charles_leclerc: it was a secret

yourusername: he doesn't kiss and tell xoxo

alexalbon: WHAT ??????

charles_leclerc: okay we can stop joking now

yourusername: fine...

user22: the way charles was defo typing that through tears

user23: y/n make the move we believe in you

user24: believe in her? she can get anyone she wants he's gotta STEP UP

charles_leclerc

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 2,099,441 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: had a blast filming for my first ever music video, thank you y/n !!

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user25: i'm feeling a new unhealthy attachment forming

yourusername: feel free to come back any time soon

charles_leclerc: or maybe you can come to me?

yourusername: is this my paddock debut?

charles_leclerc: make sure you're wearing red and it sure can be

yourusername: let me check the wardrobe

user26: i will pass away if we get y/n at a race... in the ferrari garage ???

pierregasly: let it be known i am still angry that you didn't tell me, especially after all the weird rants i've listened to

alexalbon: me too

georgerussell63: me too

landonorris: me too

danielricciardo: me too

carlossainz55: me too

maxverstappen1: me too

charles_leclerc: why is max here?

maxverstappen1: that's what you're taking from this?

charles_leclerc: yeah why are you in my business

maxverstappen1: you make it my business you talk about her all the time

yourusername: oh really ???

charles_leclerc: HE'S A BIG FAT LIAR HE'S ALWAYS BEEN A BIG FAT LIAR ALL HIS LIFE INCLUDING WHEN I MAYBE ACCIDENTALLY PUSHED HIM IN A PUDDLE

maxverstappen1: YOU DID PUSH ME IN THAT PUDDLE

yourusername: what is going on here?

user27: poor y/n being thrown into the grid drama

user28: poor charles with the grid trying to expose him

yourusername

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yourusername: clearly was feeling myself this week

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user31: lol why is max here

maxverstappen1: doing my due diligence as an investigative journalist

charles_leclerc: choke.

user32: is that charles? are we in the soft launch?

user33: let's not get ahead of ourselves, we know charles doesn't dress that well

user34: consider this: girlfriend effect

user35: girlfriend effect is gonna have to do some heavy lifting when it comes to charles' wardrobe

yourbff1: you think you're so slick don't you

yourusername: maybe. maybe not?

yourbff1: you're so annoying

yourusername: annoyingly cute?

liked by charles_leclerc

yourbff1: keep your nose out of women's business leclerc

charles_leclerc: SLANDER

user36: i mean they seem to have the same sense of humour

user37: not to sound insane but they are perfect for each other and i will be passing away if they are not together

pierregasly: interesting

danielricciardo: add it to the folder

charles_leclerc: folder ???

maxverstappen1: leave us journalists be

charles_leclerc: can you even read?

yourusername: GET HER JADE

maxverstappen1: add that as well

charles_leclerc: why can't we win?

user38: what is going on in the house of commons

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 2,331,663 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: i don't believe in soft launches

view all comments

user39: we been knew... but OMG PARENTS

user40: i am crying they're so hot

yourusername: hawt bf obtained

charles_leclerc: sexy gf in my inventory

yourusername: you're such a cute patootie

charles_leclerc: i cannot speak my mind or instagram will censor me

yourusername: ...oop hurry up and come back :(

charles_leclerc: about to break all US speeding laws xoxo

yourusername: not you in your charli xcx era

user41: he's with her ... in the US ... could we get y/n paddock debut in vegas ???

user42: would only be right i fear

user43: the scheduling just about makes sense before she has to go back to opening for taylor in south america

user44: now why did vegas not get in their bag and get y/n to perform at the opening ceremony?

pierregasly: way to ruin the investigation

danielricciardo: yeah we were in our sherlock holmes era

maxverstappen1: have to spoil everything don't you charles 🤨

charles_leclerc: i thought you guys wanted to know who my girlfriend is?

alexalbon: yes, but we wanted to expose it :(

yourusername: CORNY

pierregasly: oh no. he has someone on his side now

yourusername: damn right frenchie. i can hear your asshole twitching from here

pierregasly: WHAT ???

charles_leclerc: idk what that means but YEAH PIERRE TAKE THAT

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 2,114,762 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: gutted not to be on the top step but an overall great weekend in vegas. glad to have y/n by my side this weekend before she's off again to slay the stage xx

view all comments

user48: charles unironically using the word slay, the girlfriend effect knows no bounds

user49: the sky camera zooming in on y/n watching the podium

user50: i think we watched her fall in love in real time

user51: i mean look at the material... podium charles hits so different i think I FELL IN LOVE

yourusername: you're a winner to me babe

charles_leclerc: and that's all that matters

yourusername: NOPE STAY HUNGRY GET THEM POINTS AND DESTROY THE REST OF THE FIELD

charles_leclerc: okay :)

yourusername: good boy

pierregasly: never say that in public again

maxverstappen1: is this why he's blushing so much in the press conference?

charles_leclerc: NO. NO REASON

yourusername: you sure?

charles_leclerc: i am the unluckiest driver ever and am screwed over at every turn sue me if i like a lil praise

user52: charles is so real for that i also want y/n to tell me i'm doing a good job

alexalbon: enough time has passed. @yourusername can lily get some extra tickets for the eras tour

yourusername: of course. anything for my new bestie

lilymunhe: thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuu. charles you have amazing taste

charles_leclerc: i know :)

yourusername: i mean i got you, so who's the real winner here?

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,667,982 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & taylorswift

yourusername: my leg of the eras tour has come to an end :( this was such an insane opportunity, thank you so much taylor xx but this also means i can go annoy charlie until he has to go back to work !!

one last nonsense outro:

i met this lovely boy named charlie,

he races round the world for ferrari,

giving it to me everyday like ari

view all comments

user53: i think y/n might actually be winning in life

user54: is she referencing everyday by ariana grande which is literally just a song about having constant sex?

yourusername: yes and what about it? f1 drivers have great stamina

arthurleclerc: DELETE ASAP

yourusername: no can do baby leclerc

user55: fave outro for real

charles_leclerc: i am blushing !!

pierregasly: she just told millions of people all you do is fuck and now you're blushing ???

yourusername: i don't think mr doggy emoji is talking right now

charles_leclerc: at least y/n did it in an artful way

pierregasly: believe me i know YOU WON'T STOP SINGING IT DOWN THE PHONE YOU MENACE

yourusername: you sing my songs :) ?

carlossainz55: ALL THE TIME

yourusername: i don't like your tone mr 🤨

charles_leclerc: i am just showing my love :(

yourusername: @pierregasly @carlossainz55 you made him sad APOLOGIZE IMMEDIATELY

pierregasly: sorry?

carlossainz55: sorry i guess?

charles_leclerc: thank you :) i shall continue to sing to my heart's content

yourusername: good.

taylorswift: you were amazing !! i'll see you soon my love xx

yourusername: i'm hearing double date ??

taylorswift: i'm sure that can be arranged

charles_leclerc: OMG

user56: charles and travis are really the top tier himbo bfs and i love them for that

fin.

note: i really loved writing this so i hope this was everything you imagined and more!! i'm just getting into sabrina's music but i was a girl meets world stan so... i hope i did the nonsense outro justice xxx

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ Blue or Orange ? (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : lando norris x fem reader

summary : when the shimmer athlete meets the speed athlete

tw : fluff, a little chaos, suggestive

fc: Claire Wolford *she is so pretty-*

a/n : So this was requested anonymously, so if you are seeing this, Hope you like it 💫 AND before anyone jumps on me for using Daniel, it’s just one comment and the meme was started by him !!

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by victoriakalena, chandidayle, kelsey_w, landonorris and 87,290 others

ynwolford Thunderstrucked Vegas 💫✨

view comments

user1 the dream life ✊🏻

user2 THUNDER!! TA DA DA THUNDER !!

victorikalena leader ay-aye 🫡

liked by ynwolford

chandidayle serving serious looks ma’am

ynwolford only for you 🫶🏻

user3 drop. the. freaking. skin. and. body. routine !!!

user4 oh to be her 😮‍💨😮‍💨

kelsey_w the look is perfect !!

liked by ynwolford

user5 I AM SEEING HER IN THE VEGAS MATCH

user6 EXCUSE ME !? - can you take me 🥺

user7 bleeding blue and white 💙🤍

user8 why is lando norris in her likes ?

user9 her boyfriend 💔 user10 WHAT-!? user10 POOKIE IS TAKEN 😭🥹 user11 who is he 😤 user12 a driver 👀 user13 * formula one driver

landonorris BEST SISTER EVER ❤️

ynwolford BEST BROTHER EVER ❤️ landonorris bro 😑 ynwolrford yo u started it landonorris you looked pretty babes 🧡❤️💙🤍 ynwolford ☺️

liked by landornorris, mclaren, chandidayle and 137,283 others

ynwolford blue and orange ? 💙🧡 @ mclaren

view comments

mclaren the color combination for the next livery ?

ynwolford cowboy style 🤠🤍💙

landonorris maybe you could cheer for me in those shorts ? 👀

ynwolford stop it you thirsty shorty landornorris you did not - ynwolford my kicks are taller than you landonorris yet still you do the splits for me -

user1 you two, there are kids 😭

user2 where the hell did lando pop out from ?

user3 when did the couple comments become so active 😭

chandidayle Y/N, please behave, there are kids

user4 THANK YOU CHANDI

georgerussell Y/N, could you please get us passes for the match ?

ynwolford dw! Tickets for you, Oscar, Alex, Max and Charles are in my bag ✊🏻

landonorris last time I checked, I was the one who asked you out

ynwolford last time I checked, you always have no pass entry AS YOUR GIRLFRIEND is a DCC 💪🏻 landonorris oh.

user5 I missed the silent relationship comments

user6 they are entertaining tho-

liked by chandidayle, landonorris, kelsey_w and 162,319 others

ynwolford and after 4 years, the Pom-Poms take a rest 🤍💙🤍💙

view comments

user1 WE WILL MISS YOU 😭

user2 genuinely one of the best dcc!!

kelsey_w can’t believe we were together through it all 💙

liked by ynwolford

dcccheerleaders once a DCC, always a DCC 💙🤠🤍

liked by ynwolford

landonorris I am so proud of you love 🫶🏻

ynwolford thank you 😭

user3 for once his comment was normal -

user4 no horny comments today

landonorris but I am sad I won’t see you in those shorts

user5 there we go ✊🏻

user6 the way y/n just ignored -

user7 lando and her are probably doing dirty

user8 STOP TALKING ABOUT THEIR NIGHT LIFE

user9 yes! This is a child account 😙

carlossainz55 A great end to your career 💪🏻

ynwolford unemployed besties 🫶🏻

user10 she did not -

carlossainz55 that hurt 😞

ynwolford reality hurts my dear Carlos landonorris Stop Calling Him “Dear” ynwolford Dear Carlos 🫶🏻 georgerussell hi 👋 ynwolford dear George 🫶🏻 alexalbon hi 👋 ynwolford dear Alex 🫶🏻 landonorris STOP 💔

liked by landonorris, lewishamilton, georgerussell and 128,271 others

ynwolford and after 2 years, orange is the best 🧡

view comments

landnorris aw 🥺

landonorris cute 😤

landonorris pretty 😮‍💨

landonorris hot 🥵

landonorris mommy 😗

gerogerussell LANDO SHAVED HIS MOUSTACHE!?

ynwolford I asked him too 😌

alexalbon “ THIS MOUSTACHE IS MY BADGE OF HONOUR”

landonorris whatever the queen says 🤷🏻‍♂️

danielriccardio he doesn’t even grow pubes

ynwolford sadly, he does now 😔 landonorris HEY! cmon babe, you know you love it 👀 ynwolford the tree lando, not the jungle 🫷🏻

comments on this post have been restricted

[slu7formen]

Hellooo helloo, I love all your Luke stories so muchh!!

Could I have a request for Luke x Poseidon’s daughter reader something about her joining him even betraying her brother Percy because love prevails all so like their love is the most powerful thing of all.. hope that makes sense in a way hahaha okay thank youuu 😙💗💕✨

thank you so much for reading my stories, I’m so glad you like them ☺️

luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: betrayal, reader’s kinda blinded by love but also kinda cute, little fluff at the end

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Thirteen wasn't exactly the age you pictured discovering you were a demigod. Apparently, you had blissfully –or maybe obliviously— muddled through your first thirteen years completely oblivious to the mythological world that simmered just beneath your feet.

Your life had been a quiet one. Growing up in a sleepy seaside town, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore was the soundtrack to your existence. You felt a weird connection to the water, an inexplicable pull towards the ocean whenever you stood on the beach. But you attributed that to nothing more than a love for swimming and a healthy dose of wanderlust, you thought.

Then came the satyr. Grover Underwood, a nervous wreck of a creature with a perpetually startled expression. You don´t remember much about your life back then, just the way he stammered through an explanation about Greek myths being real, your parentage being linked to a god, and the pressing need for you to get to a safe haven called Camp Half-Blood.

And now here you were. Years went by, living at Camp Half-Blood, and being the only child of Poseidon.

Camp was always bustled with activity. Laughter echoed across the training fields, campers sparred with celestial bronze swords. Yet, amidst the chaos, a subtle sense of loneliness lingered around you. You weren't friendless, not by any stretch of the imagination. You had a close circle of friends, but there was a specific kind of lonely feeling that came with being the only child of Poseidon at camp, a forbidden child.

The other cabins, they all teemed with siblings. —mostly—. Shared history, inside jokes, and the comfort of knowing someone else understood exactly what it meant to have the same god for a parent – these were things you craved. There was a gap, a yearning for a familial connection that none of your friends could fully fill.

Then came Percy.

His arrival at camp was nothing short of spectacular. A blue-eyed twelve-year-old with a knack for attracting trouble. During a particularly intense Capture the Flag game, Annabeth, a sharp-tongued daughter of Athena with a strategic mind, shoved Percy into the lake. The air crackled with gasps and surprises as a shimmering green trident materialized above Percy´s head, claiming him for Poseidon.

The revelation sent a jolt through you. You, the solitary child of the sea god, suddenly had a sibling. Percy looked up at you with wide, startled eyes, a mixture of awe and apprehension playing on his face. It was like looking into a mirror reflecting a younger version of yourself, the same confusion etched on his features.

Percy looked up to you with a hero-worship that both amused and touched you. He saw in you a reflection of his own mother, Sally Jackson, with her kindness and unwavering belief in the good in others. You became his confidante, his guide through the intricate social landscape of Camp Half-Blood.

But you weren't the only one who welcomed Percy. Luke, your closest friend at camp, was equally happy for your newfound family, —or so he faked it very well. Percy quickly found himself asking you both all the questions he had and spending all his training session´s with Luke.

You and Luke were a natural fit. Both of you skilled warriors, blessed with the agility of Hermes and the raw power of the sea. You sparred together often, your movements a dance of attack and parry, a language only the two of you seemed to understand. Your laughter echoed through the camp, and more than once, you caught Percy or other campers shooting you hesitant glances, not really knowing what your relationship was about, a thin line between friends love and-, other type of love, drawn in between.

And yes, Luke loved you, and you loved him. So much, that´d you´d be able to do anything for each other. Little did Percy know.

The metallic clang of your celestial bronze sword echoed through the silent woods, a jarring counterpoint to the chirping of nocturnal crickets. Percy, his breath ragged and sweat stinging his eyes, pushed back against Luke's relentless assault. Betrayal gnawed at his gut, a viper coiling tighter with every parry and thrust.

Luke, his once friendly face twisted with a manic fervor, pressed the attack. Every word that left his lips was a fresh wound: about the Olympians' manipulation, about the power promised by Kronos, about how this wasn't meant to betray him, or anyone.

Suddenly, the clang of steel meeting steel ceased. Percy stumbled back, his heart hammering in his chest, as Luke lowered his sword. A flicker of hope, fragile and fleeting, ignited within him.

"Percy," Luke said, his voice quieter now, a hint of desperation creeping in. "This is not what you want, trust me. Last chance."

Percy stared at him, the hope dying as quickly as it had flickered. How could Luke even suggest such a thing, joining him? Didn't he understand the consequences?

Before he could retort, a new figure emerged from the shadows of the trees behind Luke. His breath caught in his throat, eyes twitching as he tried his best to focus on the figure coming from the forest. You.

A flicker of relief washed over Percy as he saw you emerge from the shadows. "yn” he called out, hope blossoming in his chest.

You stepped into the scene, moonlight casting an ethereal glow on your features. But something was off. You weren't rushing to his side, face etched with concern as it usually was. Instead, you stood there, a strange stillness cloaking you.

"Percy" you finally said, your voice cool and controlled, lacking it´s usual warmth.

Confusion warred with the relief. "yn" he repeated, his voice unsteady. "Clarisse didn't – it was him" he stammered, pointing at Luke with his sword. "He stole the bolt. He's joining Kronos"

Percy expected outrage, surprise, anything. Instead, your expression remained unreadable. A shadow flickered across your face, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"I know what he did" you replied simply. The calmness in your voice sent a shiver down his spine. The casualness of your reply was scary. It was like you were talking about the weather, not a world-shattering betrayal.

There was something wrong. Terribly wrong.

"Then help me" he pleaded, a desperate edge creeping into his voice.

You met his gaze for a long, agonizing moment. Percy saw a flicker of something weird in your eyes, something that made your pupils blown. But then, it was gone, replaced by a fire that mirrored Luke's.

A slow realization dawned on him, cold and heavy in his gut. You weren't surprised. You weren't angry. You knew.

Percy's heart hammered against his ribs. He saw the familiar hilt of your celestial bronze sword hanging loosely at your belt, the moonlight glinting off the polished metal.

"Percy, I can't do that" you said, your voice barely a whisper.

Percy understood then. You weren't caught in the middle. You weren´t with him, you were with Luke, all the way. The truth slammed into him, a betrayal far worse than anything he could have imagined. You were a traitor.

Percy felt like you'd ripped open a fresh wound in his chest and poured lemon juice in it. This sister, this family he'd thought he'd found at camp, meant nothing to you in the face of this rebellion? The anger coursing through him was laced with a bitter disappointment that gnawed at his insides. He'd trusted Luke blindly, sure, but you were different. He'd looked up to you, confided in you. The betrayal cut deep.

"You're with him?" he choked out, the question laced with disbelief and a raw, wounded vulnerability. He couldn´t wrap his mind around it.

"I'm not with him, Percy" you countered, taking a hesitant step forward. He flinched back, the movement a physical manifestation of the emotional chasm that had suddenly opened between you. The pain that flickered across your face was a punch to his gut, but he couldn't ignore the conviction in your voice. "We're together" you continued. "We created this."

Percy couldn't believe what he was hearing. You were so convinced, so blinded by whatever twisted loyalty you felt for Luke, that you couldn't see the bigger picture. "How could you?" he roared, his voice raw with emotion. "How could you do this, to everyone who trusts you? To the people who love you?"

You scoffed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Come on, Percy, you want to talk about betrayal? Let's talk about our father." The words hung heavy in the air, a challenge laden with bitterness. A sudden breeze swept through the woods, rustling the leaves and carrying the salty scent of the ocean as if a wave had crashed nearby. It seemed like even the sea itself reacted to your words.

"Let's talk about the gods" you pressed, your voice laced with a bitter venom. "They get bored at the Olympus, so they play their pretty games, making mortals fall for them and then discarding them like broken toys. Mortals like your mom, like mine. And they leave us, their children, to pick up the pieces."

Percy groaned in frustration. "They're not perfect" he admitted, "they're trying their best for us"

"Don't bullshit me" you say. The calmer your voice was, the more fear Percy felt. "I don’t wanna fight, Percy, but they couldn´t care less”

Luke´s face partially obscured by the shadows, but the jagged scar across his cheek was visible under the moonlight. It was a constant reminder of the failed quest Hermes had sent him on, a cruel mark of a father's neglect.

Percy's gaze flicked between you and Luke, a sudden understanding dawning on him. Your words, your anger, your sadness. It wasn't just about Kronos or overthrowing the Olympians. It was about a deeper wound, a festering resentment born from years of feeling abandoned by your father, his father too. He understood, but he didn´t think it was right.

"But you can't be serious" he finally choked out. "This isn't the answer. There has to be another way."

A flicker of sadness crossed your features, a stark contrast to the steely resolve you'd presented earlier. It was a fleeting glimpse, a crack in the facade you'd constructed, and it tugged at Percy's heartstrings. No, it wasn't jealousy or envy. It was a deeper, more profound sense of loss. You weren't angry at him for having a father who cared just a little bit, for having a family he cherished. You were simply… sad. Sad that you never had that, that your only family was Luke, and that his arrival, however welcome it initially felt, couldn't erase the years of loneliness you'd endured.

Percy´s eyes darted behind you, to Luke.

"Why are you dragging her into this?" Percy demanded, his voice tight with a mixture of anger and protectiveness. He knew you weren't the mastermind, Luke was the one who had poisoned your trust, manipulated your resentment.

"It's not that hard to understand, Percy" you answered before Luke could speak. Your voice held a quiet defiance, a loyalty that both warmed and stung him. "We're together" you repeated, the words laced with a quiet strength that resonated deep within him.

Then it hit him, another wave of realization crashing over him like a rogue wave. It wasn't just loyalty or a shared cause that bound you to Luke. There was something more, something deeper that flickered in your eyes whenever you looked at him.

"You love him" Percy whispered, the words hanging heavy in the air. And it wasn´t a question either, he knew.

A faint blush crept up your cheeks, but you didn't deny it. "We understand each other, Percy. We know what it's like to be unseen, unheard. Isn't that what love is? Empathy, understanding?"

A tear escaped your eye, glistening in the moonlight. Percy could see the pain, the longing in your eyes, how you clinged to the only thing that hugged you back; Luke.

“You’re blind” Percy whispered, hand instinctively groping to the handle of his sword.

"No, Percy" you countered, your voice soft but firm. "I'm awake. I see things for what they are. You know what it feels like, right? To have one person who understands you, who truly sees you" you continued. Your voice softened even further, a hint of vulnerability entering the equation. "Sally, isn't it?"

He flinched at the mention of his mother's name.

"That's love, P." you said, using the nickname you'd once shared. The sound of it sent a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill from his eyes, mirroring the glistening in your own. "And to me, to us" you continued, your voice barely above a whisper, "that's the most powerful thing."

Percy saw the love for Luke burning bright in your eyes, a love that had blinded you to the potential destruction you were embracing. He saw the pain of neglect, the longing for acceptance that fueled your rebellion. But most of all, he saw a glimmer of hope, a flicker of doubt that your tear-filled eyes betrayed.

The weight of your words settled on Percy like a lead blanket. He understood the path you were on, but he couldn't just let you walk away, couldn't let you be consumed by this darkness. The thought of ever having to fight you, to raise his sword against his own sister, filled him with a dread that eclipsed even the fear of facing Kronos himself.

With a desperate surge of defiance, Percy lunged at you, Riptide flashing in the moonlight. You reacted with lightning reflexes, a blur of blue as you deflected his attack with your own celestial bronze sword. The clang of metal echoed through the silent woods, a discordant note in the tense atmosphere.

The fight was short, brutal, and utterly one-sided. You were older, more experienced, and fueled by a burning conviction that mirrored Percy's own determination. A quick twist of your wrist, a disarming maneuver honed through years of training, and Riptide clattered to the ground several feet away.

Percy landed hard on the leaf-strewn ground, the impact knocking the wind out of him. He lay there, disarmed, defeated, and utterly heartbroken. Betrayal gnawed at him, a bitter cocktail of anger and sorrow.

A single tear escaped your eye, tracing a glistening path down your cheek. You knelt down beside him, your touch surprisingly gentle on his shoulder. "Percy," you said, your voice thick with emotion, "you're my brother. I don´t wanna leave you”

Percy looked up at you, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with a storm of conflicting emotions. "Then why?" he choked out, his voice hoarse. "Why are you doing this?"

"Come with me” you continued, your voice softening further. “Come with us, Percy”

A long silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

"I can't, yn" he said, his voice firm despite the tremor that ran through him. "I won't be a part of this, it´s not fair."

A flicker of pain crossed your features. You rose to your feet then, your expression unreadable again.

A curt nod was your only response before you swiped a hand across your cheek, wiping away the traitorous tear. Bending down, you retrieved your celestial bronze sword, the moonlight glinting coldly off its surface.

"Then I guess I won't see you for a while, little one" you said, your voice thick with a maelstrom of emotions. Percy almost flinched at the nickname, a stark reminder of the bond you once shared. The weight of his decision pressed down on him, a suffocating feeling that left him breathless.

Suddenly, a hand clamped softly onto your arm. You whipped around, eyes focusing on Luke, his face grim.

"We have to go" he said urgently, his voice laced with a barely concealed panic.

You glanced back at Percy, his expression a mixture of heartbreak and steely resolve. A million unspoken words hung heavy in the air, a silent plea for you to reconsider, to choose family over rebellion.

But your path was laid. With a final, longing look at Percy, you took a few steps towards a cluster of crumbling ruins that stood there sentinel. Luke reached for your hand, his grip tight with a mix of reassurance and desperation.

Percy watched, a cold dread settling in his gut, as Luke traced a final line, completing the arcane symbol etched onto the column. The air shimmered, a blueish light pooling in the center of the ruins. It widened, forming a shimmering curtain that pulsed with an otherworldly energy.

Luke leaned in, whispering something in your ear. You nodded, a faint smile gracing your lips for a fleeting moment. Then Luke, his face a mask of grim determination, looked back at Percy for a final time. And with a final squeeze of his hand, you both stepped into the shimmering portal. The blue light intensified for a moment, blinding Percy momentarily.

And then just like that, you were gone.

The portal spat you out in a blackness so thick it felt like a physical presence. The air was heavy with the smell of salt and wet sand. You stumbled forward, disoriented, hand instinctively tightening on Luke's. His grip was firm, anchoring you in the swirling darkness.

"Whoa, careful" he murmured, his voice a welcome sound in the suffocating silence.

He took a tentative step forward, then another, testing the ground. You followed suit, your steps hesitant and laced with a growing unease.

"Come on" he said, his voice tinged with urgency, "we gotta get to-"

He cut himself off abruptly as he realized you weren't moving. You stood rooted to the spot, your eyes fixed on something beyond him, your grip on his hand tightening almost painfully.

Luke turned you gently, his brow furrowed in concern as he gazed into your tear-filled eyes. The moonlight, pale and ghostly, illuminated the glistening tracks on your cheeks.

"Baby, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with worry. He cupped your face in his calloused hands, his touch a familiar comfort in the unsettling darkness.

You choked back a sob, the tears overflowing again. "Am I doing the right thing, Luke?" you whispered, your voice barely audible above the crashing waves. "I lost my family, again. Percy. He doesn’t-…”

The raw pain in your voice tore at his heart. He knew this path, this rebellion, would come at a cost, but seeing the emotional toll it was taking on you was a gut punch.

"Hey, hey, look at me" he coaxed, gently lifting your chin so your eyes met his. His gaze was steady, filled with a fierce loyalty that had always been a source of strength for you.

"We were on this path way before Percy arrived, remember?" he asked, his voice firm yet soothing.

You nodded slowly, a single tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I need you to be strong for me, angel” he continued, his thumb brushing away the tear. "You´re what keeps me going."

He placed a tender kiss on your forehead. "I'll give you everything" he murmured, his voice a low promise. "I promise I'll give you the life you deserve"

Then, he trailed a line of kisses down your cheek, his lips lingering on yours in a final, lingering and sweet kiss.

It was meant to be a reassurance, but it sent a wave of conflicting emotions crashing through you. There was comfort in his touch, a flicker of the love you shared, but it was overshadowed by a gnawing doubt.

When you finally pulled back, a shaky breath escaping your lips, Luke took your hand, his touch gentle yet firm. He looked out at the vast expanse of ocean, then scanned the horizon.

You followed his gaze, squinting through the darkness. A faint flicker of white lights danced in the distance, a beacon in the vast blackness.

"Come on" he said, his voice tinged with newfound purpose. "We gotta get to the cruise."

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

⚔️ 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Gauntlets of the Midnight Leopard
Wondrous item, rare (requires attunement) ___ These dark purple leather gloves are lined with a matching leopard’s fur. While wearing them, your eyes shimmer in the dark, like a cat’s, and you have a climbing speed of 30 feet. Short, diamond claws are attached to the gauntlets’ fingertips. While wearing them, you can use a bonus action to retract or extend the claws. While extended, the clawed gauntlets turn unarmed strikes with your hands into magic weapons that deal slashing damage, with a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls and a damage die of 1d6 (unless the damage of your unarmed strikes is already higher). 𝙋𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙚. When you take the Attack action while wearing these gauntlets, you can replace any of your normal attacks with a special unarmed strike. When you do, you leap up to 15 feet away, provided you have the movement to do so, and any opportunity attack against you is made with disadvantage. At the end of the leap, you can immediately make an unarmed strike against a target within your reach. On a hit, the target must succeed on a DC 15 Strength saving throw or be knocked prone. The target automatically succeeds on the saving throw if it’s more than one size larger than you, if you moved less than 15 feet when leaping, or if you’ve already hit the target with an unarmed strike on this turn. ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

[honeytonedhottie]

HONEYS IT GIRL MAGAZINE march edition⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the march catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion. a magazine for it girls ✨ and now please enjoy, the it girl magazine.

MUST HAVE FASHION ITEMS ;

for march/spring fashion in general its so fun to dress like a winx doll or a fairy. i feel magical in flowy material that shimmers, adorable mini skirts and accessories like gold bangles and waist chains.

when im going shopping, im mainly buying clothes for hot girl summer bcuz im just so excited and can't wait. plus i wanna be prepared yk? some patterns that i've noticed in my shopping patterns are that im buying lots of camisoles and sleeveless shirts.

also i've been looking for cute shorts and low waisted jeans. im looking for cute things to embroider onto the jeans and shorts to personalize them and make them feel more "summery".

something that i started was a FASHION BINDER. i followed @prissygrlsorority's idea for a fashion binder and started my own and so far im having SUCH an amazing time. i want to take time and perfect my binder but so far its going well ✨

spring traditionally has LOTS of pastel colors so formulate a color scheme based on pastel colors that look good on you. some rly good examples for color scheme this spring include

something to note for spring fashion specifically is to not look for colors that are specifically dark or bland, the idea behind spring fashion is giving fresh flowerbed, something REFRESHING.

FOR THE BLOG ;

i've been working this month on a larger project that i think you guys would really enjoy and find useful. it'll be released on the first of march and i'll announce it exactly a week before.

additionally during the month of march i expanded my blog by setting up a membership system and facilitating a way for u guys to tip my work and support my blog. i've also offered my services if u might want them.

for the month of april u can expect a variety of content but i wanted to get input from you guys on what you'd like to see the most so i'll be releasing a poll for april content later today.

HOT GIRL SUMMER PREP ;

look, ik its only march but hot girl summer is right around the corner so here are some ways that you can prepare yourself for the summer, so that you can be your most glowy, confident, and radiant self ✨

you can moisturize ur skin with the most sweet smelling and extravagant body butters and creams, but if ur skin is dull and dead you won't get that GLOW that u so desperately seek

for this i recommend juicing (i'll get more into health in the wellness girlies section) and start dry brushing to promote blood circulation and remove dead skin cells from ur body, leaving ur skin feeling baby smooth. also i recommend using a body scrub 2-3x a week depending on the sensitivity of your skin.

if u liked this hot girl summer prep section u can continue reading right one of my recent posts where i went more in depth about how u can prepare for ur hot girl summer.

OH HOW I ADORE BEING A WOMAN ;

this months catalog was in collaboration with @pastel-charm-14 and this section of the magazine was written by her ✨🫶🏽

march brings more than just the promise of spring, it's also a time to celebrate the amazing women who've shaped history. as women's history month rolls around, we can't help but reflect on what it means to be a part of this incredible legacy.

think about those bold suffragettes who fought tooth and nail for our right to vote. they weren't just distant figures in history books; they were real women with fire in their hearts and determination in their eyes. and what about the everyday heroes—the moms, sisters, and friends who quietly make the world a better place?

they might not be famous, but they have such an incredible impact. so here's to us—here's to the laughs, the tears, and everything in between. here's to celebrating our history, our struggles, and our triumphs—because they're what make us who we are.

cheers to being women, and cheers to the journey ahead. being a woman isn't always easy, but i know wouldn't have it any other way.

FOR THE WELLNESS GIRLIES ;

something that has come to my attention is that i drink a lot of fluids early in the morning. i've known that it was good to drink fluids in the morning, specifically water, but i wanted to have an in depth explanation of why it was good. so i googled it ofc.

ur body is dehydrated while u sleep so when u drink water first thing in the morning it helps ur body to recover from the temporary dehydration.

your body absorbs fluids faster in the morning on an empty stomach. so my routine has been, once i wake up to have an 8 oz cup of water, but water isnt the only thing that i drink in the morning.

bcuz fluids are so quickly and efficiently absorbed in ur body in the morning, you can drink other healthy drinks and reap the benefits. some things that i drink in the morning are ;

chlorophyll - this makes me feel so clean, it boosts red blood cells production and helps with glowy skin and weight loss. plus after i drink it i feel so clean, like a fresh out of the shower feeling

ginger shots - these are pretty lethal but they r so good for you. ginger shots are rly good for digestion issues and bloating, and it also boosts ur immunity which is always good

kombuchas - this one i dont drink on an empty stomach, but drinking kombucha in the morning though rly helps with bloating and reduces inflammation, leaving me looking snatched

FUN QUIZZES, VIDEO ESSAYS, RECIPES AND GAMES ;

what kind of flirt are you? - seventeen magazine

whats ur girl power anthem? - seventeen magazine

what kind of dessert are you? - queendom

FOOD FOR THOUGHT ;

this is the video that im going to be thinking about in order to write this section and here's what i thought about it.

ok so the conflict is unique but personally if i was the husband i wouldn't be mad bcuz its not like the wife was IN the bed with the brother in law 😭 she just said that he could use it cuz he was so sleepy. i think that what she did was nice and the husband could've communicated that he was uncomfortable in a better way then to get angry. but in that same breath the wife knows how strongly her husband feels about things like this so maybe she could've been more considerate. like bring out a pillow and some blankets for the brother in law and let him rest on the couch or whatever 💀.

if u thought differently or if u wanna elaborate on that and have more of a discussion feel free to share ur own opinions and thoughts in the comment section.

[obsessive-valentine]

Hello,

what if reader tries to act nice and docile just so that childhood fae yandere lowers his guard but later tries to escape and how will he react after her failed escape..wil he be angry or amused..(Sorry English is not my first language )

Btw love ur work ❤️✨the childhood fae yandere is my fav✨

Fae Childhood-Friend x GN!Reader

How did you read my mind so well, I was actually just thinking about short one shots for each yandere with an escaped reader. Crying makes this yandere weak so he’s not as charismatic and put-together in this one lol. Also appreciate the compliment and your English is great! ❤️

This particular night while you lay awake beside him you’d worked yourself up and felt particularly brave. But not anymore, not now you’ve been running through the dark woods for what felt like an hour. The trees are thorny and stretch on forever with their leaves successfully covering the whole sky, not even moonlight could peer between the leaves to light the way slightly. You could have sworn your eyes closed if it weren’t for the firefly like bugs floating around and shimmering pools of water here and there.

Scrapes frequently clawed into your skin from prickly branches leaving a sting, at some point you began wondering if the branches were twisting and bending to reach you and claw at you more. And if the roots and needles were trying to grasp around your bare feet- leaving you to stumble rather than run... maybe you should have stayed in bed.

...

He hadn’t fallen asleep fully, he closed his eyes resting and waiting for your return, after you tiptoed out of the bed room presumably for a drink or to use the toilet. After a while he begrudgingly sat up and called with a slight of annoyance in his tone he called your name. The lack of reply made him get out of bed and search for you to drag you back to bed. His whole face darkened knowing you weren’t in the house at all, he gritted his teeth and rushed for the front door.

“Fucking idiot” he wasn’t sure if he was saying that about himself or you. He didn’t bother grab a coat or shoes and opened to run out the door into the cold winter with just his thin night shirt and trousers on. He knew exactly where to look.

...

You didn’t get far until the angry roots and branches began to bend and creak to scrape you, the forest was coming to life and became darker and horrifying the more you ran. At some point you ended up on the forest floor crying, exhausted and terrified. The forest made awful noises and you could see the sky though the thick canopy of leaves, you wasn’t sure if it was bugs or the cold pinching and biting at your exposed skin but it hurt all the same.

Everything ached and all hope of finding that portal was long gone. “Darling?” You heard a exasperated voice, and rushed feet, during his trek through the forest he was angry thinking about the paragraphs of lectures he’ll shout at you, that was until he saw you sitting defeated and broken on the forest floor “my sweet idiot, it isn’t safe out here for your kind” a pitiful tone but oddly full of love, you looked up to see him, all his anger melted away and he just wanted to protect you.

He knelt down in front of you and almost flinched from how cold you’d gotten when he went to wipe away tears and dirt from your face. His face reminded you of when you were both kids, how he desperately would try to stop your crying and distract you from the sting of the scrapes on you knees after you’d fell, but this forest was anything but the idillic nature you both played in. “Your okay now. I’m here” he hushed and brought you into a embrace as he caught his breath.

You hadn’t realised you began to cry again until you heard yourself sob out “I just wanted to go home” his embrace tightened at the thought of you leaving him. He whispered you name in your ear before instructing you “Calm your breathing” and you did, you understood the power he held over you, his ability to put you in a trance like state. And unlike the first time he used it to kidnap you, you are great full -you want suffocating on your breath anymore and sunk comfortably into his arms.

“This is your home now love, it just hasn’t grown on you yet ~but you’re mine you always have been, I can’t let you leave again” he murmured into your hair as he lifted you from the ground, you didn’t have the energy to argue with his words. The walk back was quiet, the woods behaved for him -nothing reached out to scratch or bite at you now, no beady eyes followed you and the forest top now let the moonlight shimmer through.

He carried you out the trees, through the gates, into the garden and then into the house much like the first time you arrived.

...

You expected a scolding and if he was honest he expected to be much more angry with you, that you would put yourself in such danger just to get away from him. Instead here you sat, on the counter in the bathroom in front of him as he (as carefully as he could) disinfected your scrapes -after a rather painful shower with the water dancing on your wounds, like it was making fun of your failed escape.

He only spoke a few words- just reassurances, at a loss of what to say, not wanting to upset you more. Instead he let his actions speak. He detangled your hair gently and helped you into pyjamas. He wasn’t even a bit angry but rather disappointed in himself, you looked so fragile and exhausted and it’s all his fault and insensitivity.

For a man with usually so much to say he truly didn’t know how to comfort his beloved, you looked exhausted so he brought you to bed but before he dragged the blankets over your body for the second time that night, he had to be sure he could sleep without being worried you’d run again.“Love, listen to me” he grabs your face gently “I know it’s a lot and I understand why you did it -but you can’t go outside alone, it’s dangerous and I’m not just saying that for my own benefit. Promise me, love” you tiredly nodded, you wouldn’t go back into those woods again it doesn’t play fair. Nothing about this realm is fair.

He nodded appreciatively, believing you. “we’ll talk more in the morning” he blew out the dim candle on the nightstand and lay down with you, with one less worry about his dear human.

You let him drag you into his chest and found comfort in it, so much so you fell asleep. He didn’t usually hold you like this, fae aren’t really touchy creatures and make for peculiar lovers. He’s a much better lover than most fae due to his history with you, being acclimated to your human emotions through the years growing together, but he still had some improving to do.

He’d been expecting and even cocky at times -telling himself you’ll come around, that you have to because he’s all you have, forgetting that you’re still just a human with different definitions of love. But not from now on “I’ll make you fall in love with me, I’ll make you feel more loved than any human could and you’ll never want to go back. I want to make you happy like i used to”

He takes this as a challenge, prove to you that you’re the only one for him and he for you. Because he is, you just haven’t realised yet.

[allsadnshit]

ready to share my ginger peach/plum upside down cake magic today with a little digital pdf for sale! 🍑

literally pulling my most recent one out of the oven as I type this 💌 stone fruit season is short and sweet like this bake so don't wait to make it!!! It WILL impress the dinner parties and picnickers I promise <3

To buy: just send $5 to superbunnypopstudio on venmo and then email at superbunnypopstudio@gmail.com with the header "upside down cake please" and I will reply with this zine for all your shimmering summer cake needs ✨

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Please Please Please - Rafe Cameron Short Story (Part 6 of 6 Final Chapter and Epilogue)

Bonus smut chapter is complete - making final edits now 💕

+18 Minor DNI

Older MobDealer!Rafe x Female Reader

⭐ NEW DROP ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

🪄 Warnings contain spoilers: blood, cheating, swearing, name-calling, threats, soft!rafe, mentions of killing partner, kissing, general violence, guns, fighting, ownership kink, mention of drugs, stabbing, murder, major character trauma, pet names.

📖 Loosely based on the song and music video Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter 💕

✨ “You are. You think I’m gonna believe that line of shit. ‘Bout her lyin’ to me? About you beating the livin’ shit out of her to throw me off? ✨

Reader’s POV:

You roll into the parking lot, unable to fight back your smile. The week was long, but the phone conversations with Rafe held you over just enough. The jail in Charleston wasn’t as lax as Kildare County. Understandably, Rafe did not want to push his limits, leaving the phone conversations shorter than you’d hoped they’d be. Until Rafe was out and everything was taken care of, he didn’t want you to leave the penthouse, which meant no face-to-face visits, leaving you craving him even.

Rafe ensured you were taken care of: additional security, groceries sent over, dinner brought by every night, fresh-cut flowers when he thought the old ones had wilted. Rafe had the G-Wagon scrubbed and triple-checked for any additional trackers placed or bugs planted.

He paid a hefty fee to have the cops delete a single recorded call between the two of you. Rafe wanted to know what happened the night he had gotten taken away by the officers. He wanted to know what Tony had said in the voicemail, and what happened between the restaurant and the penthouse. Everything was awful, but the voicemail conjured up the most fury. Rafe dissected each word, dragging Tony; your ex’s vile words just added fuel to the fire, like he needed any more. Rafe was very conscious with his words, careful not to incriminate himself further, emphasizing the importance of the business meeting, and that he was looking forward to it even more now.

Of course, given the situation, you couldn’t ask about Tony. His well-being wasn’t the concern, just curiosity. Where was he? Where did Barry take him? It’s been seven days… He must be well-hidden, or his boys would have found him by now. There’s no way he’s dead… Rafe would never allow Barry to take that pleasure away from him.

A conversation— it’s never a conversation with these men, even more satirical after watching how the first one unfolded. If Tony had been there, this would have been over. Maybe this is how it was supposed to happen. I’m sure Rafe has a few things he wants to say to Tony before he pulls the trigger. There are so many things I want to say to him. I wish I could have been strong enough to take the call at the bar. His words have done nothing but haunt me. But maybe I was meant to hear it too… Any fraction of guilt I had about my choices were eliminated in an instant.

The door of the jail fans open, just like it did the week before; Rafe all smiles once again. He bites his lip as he walks to you, taking you in like it's the very first time. Rafe shakes his head in awe as he looks down at you, clearing the space between as you do the same. You jump into his arms, hugging him tightly, burying yourself in his neck. He kisses wherever he can, mumbling against your soft skin about how you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen and feelings mutual. Seeing the beautiful man before you, paired with all the lovely things he did brings nothing but tears and emotion. “I love you, Rafe. I love you so much,” you snivel.

“Mmm…” He hums happily, taking his turn kissing up the column of your neck to your ear. “I love you, princess.”

You pull back and smile, eyes locked. His ocean eyes shimmer with happy tears as well. Rafe’s gaze falls to your lips, his focus like a magnet pulling you in. Your arms wrap loosely around his neck as he cradles you in his embrace. Rafe backs you against the car, deepening the exchange. Your tongue swirls with his, lips moving in perfect harmony. He smiles along your mouth, nuzzling his nose against yours. “Damn, I missed my girl.”

Rafe grips the steering wheel, the other hand resting on your bare thigh. His gold chain twinkles on his athletic chest, poking slightly out of his black fitted polo. It had taken everything in your power not to pull him into the back seat after watching him change out of the button-down he walked in with, still sprinkled with blood from the club. He looks at you with a smirk, catching you gawking, loving every second of your attention. “It’ll be a short meeting. Aight? Think you can wait?” He teases, making your cheeks warm up as you fight back a dizzy laugh.

“Honestly, I don’t think I can.” You take his hand in yours, lifting it, kissing his fingers one by one. “I still have to thank you, baby.”

Rafe releases a lusty laugh, relaxing in his leather seat a little more. “Trust me, princess. I have not forgotten. I've thought about it every night. But, a ‘thank you’ is not necessary… I love takin’ care of you, and I always will.” The car speeds past the town’s welcome sign, barreling toward the Atlantic.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“You’re droppin’ me off at the beach house, baby. You can head over to Tanneyhill. I’ll meet you there when I’m done, and we can get out of here. How does that sound?” He smiles. You clear the lump in your throat, trying to focus on the question Rafe is asking, but your mind is fixated on the rest of his words. Rafe wants me to leave? “Baby?” he asks gently. 

“I’m dropping you off…” You question uneasily. “Don’t you want me to come with you? Don’t you need me close by?”

The muscles in Rafe’s arms flex as he tightens his hand around the steering wheel, shaking his head ‘no’ as he narrows his sights on the road. “I don’t want you to see this, princess,” he responds levelly, his eyes landing on yours.

“Couldn’t Barry take care of him?” You invite without thinking. Rafe’s brows knit tightly, a puzzled look pulling on his beautiful face.

“No… Why, baby?” He asks, trying his best to keep his compass on the road ahead.

“I don’t know,” you answer hastily. “I just don’t - I don’t know.” Your stomach sinks, uneasiness setting in. After everything that Tony has done and said, he’s better off dead, but thinking about him dying at the hands of Rafe mere minutes from now had your heart racing. I can't help but think about the fact that he bamboozled Rafe not once but twice. He would have walked into an ambush at the strip club without me there… He had no clue the drugs were planted in the Mercedes. “I don’t know!”

“What don’t you know, exactly?” He asks as he pulls up to the beach house, sailing into the driveway, pulling between a vintage BMW and the white van that Tony got taken away in. Rafe turns toward you, demanding your attention. “Are you having second thoughts about this?” He questions, his words dripping with accusation.

“No!” You gasp. “I - I just. I don’t know, Rafe. I’m just freaking out. Okay?” You whimper as tears start to cloud your vision, your anxiety about the situation making your mind muddled.

“Do you want him to live?” He asks. It’s hard to place his tone; Rafe at the junctions between perplexed and agitated, his frustration with you clear in his body language alone.

“Of course I don’t. I want this to be over with,” you blubber.

”So do I, princess. And we talked about this before. It’s not going to be me and you if he’s here. Do you want it to be me and you-”

”Yes!” You cry out before he can even finish his sentence.

“Don’t think about it then, Aight? Let me handle business. This is why I don’t want you in there. I don’t want this on your conscience. I want to handle this for you. And we will never talk about this again. Okay?” You nod in silent agreement, but he shakes his head ‘no’. “Words, baby.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Rafe leans in, kissing you softly. You cup his cheeks in your hands, running your thumbs along the stubble that’s grown on his face since confinement. “I’m sorry for doubting you, Rafe, but things keep goin’ wrong. Tony keeps getting in the way. I don’t want him to hurt you. I don’t wanna lose you.”

He melts into your touch, looking at you with adoring eyes. “You’re not gonna lose me. And he’s not gonna hurt me. All right? He’s strapped to a chair. He has been for a week. This is just a matter of me lookin’ him in the eyes and letting him know that he will never get to hurt you again. Yeah?”

“Okay, baby,” you breathe as Rafe catches your tears with his thumbs.

“I love you, y/n. It’s all going to be okay.”

“Okay… I love you too, baby.”

“I know you do,” he whispers. “Once I close this door, I want you to drive. Understand?” He asks as he opens up the navigation on your phone, pulling up the address to his home in Figure Eight. “Remember what happened last time I told you to leave but you stayed an extra two minutes. You gotta listen to me,” he asserts.

“I’ll listen.”

“Promise?”

“I swear,” you whisper.

Rafe grabs the handle of the driver’s side door, pushing it open before walking around the front, helping you to your feet. His arm wraps around your waist, leading you to the other side. He hugs you tightly, pressing kisses on your forehead and cheeks before landing on your lips, kissing you one last time.

“Just a conversation,” you whisper.

“Nah,” he breathes. “Not this time. I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Rafe.”

Your hand holds his as he steps away until your fingers lose contact. Rafe reaches behind his back just as he did the night you walked into the club, checking the pistol tucked into his waistband before falling out of sight. You step into the driver’s seat, wrapping your hands around the steering wheel, still warm from Rafe. You grab the shifter, putting it in reverse, fighting against the impulse to wait in the wings ‘til he handles business, just in case he needs to flee. This man gives and gives. He has barely asked me for anything in return. Just leave. You roll out of the drive, pressing down on the gas.

Rafe’s POV:

“Barry?” I bark, my voice bouncing off the walls of the beach house. Rap music swells from the basement, the dank smell of weed hazing the place. My aggravation starts to mount; a SOLO cup crushes under the heel of my dress boot, just one of many. Empty liquor bottles and beer cans litter the counter, takeout food strewn across the tables, thongs, stripper heels, and a few stray lines of coke left cut on the counter. “I’m gonna kill him,” I curse his name under my breath as I bound toward the basement door.

I tug it open, my heart plunging as I see a pool of blood gathered on the floor. Shit. I catch my gun, heart banging as I race down the flight. “Oh, fuck… No. Sh-Shit. Barry?” I stutter as I run toward him, his white tank top drenched crimson red. His dark eyes lift momentarily, falling heavy the next. I catch his shallow breathing, leaning in close as he tries to mumble out a few words, quelled in blood.

“Tony?” I ask, watching as he gives me the slightest nod. This blood is fresh. He’s here.

BANG.

I draw my gun again as the door at the top of the stairs bangs shut. Here we go… I sprint toward the wall, half-hidden, listening to his heavy steps as they move closer and closer.

“You hidin’ from me, Cameron?” Tony’s voice cuts through the hush. “That was an awful lotta coke. You come to pay up? Or, did you just come to take somethin’ else from me?” He booms as he steps out, footing right past me.

He looks like shit. His white button-down shirt tattered and bloodied on his large body; Tony’s donning the same worn-in beard as me after his week of imprisonment in the basement. The fucker got the shorter end of the stick apparently, beaten to the edge of death, Barry doing all but killing the bitch.

I check his hands, breathing a sigh of relief; no gun. I adjust my mine as I see a weapon, however, a large kitchen knife clutched in his massive hand. End this. I find his head in my crosshairs, aiming my pistol at his skull, gritting my teeth, battling with the rational part of my brain that’s tellin’ me to fire. The irrational part of my mind yearning to feed my pride and tell him everything I wanna say for her… Tony bends around, smiling with blood-stained teeth. Shit.

“You gonna shoot, Cameron? Or you gonna just stand there like a pussy,” Tony spits.

“We got some shit we need to talk about first. Hmm?”

“You wanna talk about my girl-“

“My girl,” I stop him as I step a little closer, making him shake his head in disbelief, snickering cruelly as he looks back at me.

“Yours? Your girl? Since when exactly. ‘Cause she never said shit to me. Do you honestly think that she loves you? Are you that fuckin’ stupid?” He asks as he rolls up his sleeves, preparing for a fight.

“I know she loves me,” I grunt as I square up with him.

“You think she’d leave me? It was our plan for you to die at the club. She knew it. I knew it. You were just supposed to walk in.”

”You’re lyin’,” I spit.

“Am I?” He smiles again— that same wicked and crazed smile; punch-drunk after a week of torture. “You know I’m not, Rafe.”

“You are. You think I’m gonna believe that line of shit. ‘Bout her lyin’ to me? About you beating the livin’ shit out of her to throw me off? You think I believe you you’d actually let me fuck-”

”ENOUGH!” He thunders, his loud, deep voice making my muscle tense up. “Don’t finish that FUCKING sentence. Because how hard you make this is how hard she's gonna get it after I KILL you. You understand?”

“You can't even let me finish the sentence, Marietta. You can’t even let the words leave my lips,” I chuckle. “Ya know, about fuckin’ “your” girl, on the couch of your club? That same couch you fucked some stripper on. You think I believe that you’d actually let that happen? She ain’t in on this, Tony. This is you losin’ her and settin’ me up.” He steps closer and so do I, the pair of us level-eyed.

“I’m not lyin’. That women would do anything for me. And, at the end of the day, even if I am lyin’, she’d only want you for your money, Cameron. I’m man enough to admit you got more than me— new money and old money in your pocket. She saw an opportunity and took it. She’s either in on this or in it for the cash.”

“She’s not after my money,” I mumble as I try to keep my emotions at bay. “She’s not in on shit.”

“‘Course she is… Your head is just too far up your ass to see what’s really goin’ on around you. N’let’s just say my baby isn’t in on this with me and she just after your money and she finds someone else with more, buddy, you’re fucked. ‘Cause if you get what you came here for and you kill me, everything in my name goes to her: all of the hard earned money that I made that she loves to spend, the club, the law firm, my cars, my jewelry, my homes. Everything that I have she takes from me. And she knows that. You gotta see what’s goin’ on here. Right?” He asks as he looks back at me like I'm stupid.

“You’re pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic?” He chuckles. “You know before your boys picked me up, I was on the way to fuck my girlfriend in that pretty little penthouse you bought her. She even sent me a few pictures in that pretty pink lingerie. You know, the one she was describin’ for you on the phone? Fuck, Rafe. You should see it on her. My princess doesn’t just talk a big game. She knows how to fuck,” he sneers as he catches me battling my emotions. “Why don’t you go look at my phone. Pretty sure it’s in his pocket. You can see for yourself.”

My stomach falls as I hear the door crack at the top of the stairs—one step then another, as the person at the top creeps down. No. No. Tony hears it as well, the man looking over my shoulder with a smile. “Guess who’s here, Cameron,” he whispers. “Princess?” Tony softens his tone with her, the sound of y/n’s slight feet stopping in a flash.

Was this her plan all along?

I scrunch my nose; eyes burning with tears of deceit and rage. There’s no way the story he’s spinning is true. If he kills me, and he’s lying, what will happen to her? I can’t take that risk.

I shove him hard, making him stumble back, kicking him with the heel of my dress shoe square in the chest before he can rise back up to his feet, sending him and the knife to the ground. I hear her soft gasp; her feet quickly clearing the rest of the steps. “Don’t move, y/n,” I bark back at her.

“Rafe?” She whimpers, making me look over my shoulder. The second I do the air flees my lungs, Tony’s big body tackling me to the floor. My skull ricochetes off the hardwood floor; eyes slamming shut in pain, losing my gun in the process. I overpower him, rolling him to his back, grabbing his shoulders I lift him slightly, bashing his head against the ground again and again making him scream out in pain.

He scratches and claws at my face and shirt as I wrap my hands around his throat, squeezing with all my might. "Not so easy to fight a man. Huh?" I hiss.

"F-Fuck you," he stammers as he throws a rough punch, meeting my jaw. I respond with four of my own. The connections, direct and brutal, the dried blood on his face replaced with fresh blood as his body starts to go limp.

Finally.

I stare down at him, lifeless, one with the floor, his breathing almost nonexistent. I draw my hand back, slapping him across the face, his head snapping to the side; body unresponsive to the pain. I drag myself to my feet, stumbling across the living room for my gun. An execution. This ends right here. Right now.

My chin trembles with adrenaline and emotion as I try to get his words out of my head. There’s no way she was in on this all along. Everything she shared with me, the things she said to me, the things we did… That was real. She's here ‘cause she was worried. She's here ‘cause her intuition was right. She's here for me.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. My heart sinks, the rapid bounding of Tony’s feet stopped almost as soon as it start. It’s quiet, wet gurgling and a soft whimpers are all that remains. I turn around, facing Tony but his eyes aren’t on me. He looks down at his chest, the bloodied tip of carboned steel poking out from his chest. He falls to his knees before me, y/n standing behind him in shock, watching as he tumbles face-first on the floor.

She looks up at me, eyes filled to the brim with tears. I run to her, pulling her into my arms, holding her body close as she clings to me for dear life.

I haven't let her go since. It wouldn't feel right. I hold her, watching as the sun sets in the east; a blood-red sky, painted across the Atlantic. The last sliver of the golden sun dips below the horizon. I kiss her gently on her cheek, down the soft flesh on her neck to the dip on her shoulder before resting my chin on top. “Are you okay, baby,” she whispers. I rest my hands on the top of hers, pressing my chest against her back as we both look over the edge of the yatch, watching the black water swell below.

“M’perfect, princess,” I whisper as I nuzzle into her neck. “Are you okay.”

“I am,” she whispers, “because of you. Thank you...”

“Thank you,” I mumble as she melts into me. “I needed you. I can't believe you did that for me.”

“I’d do anything for you,” she whispers as she turns, resting her hands against my chest, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “I know him. I know Tony probably filled your head with lies but I promise, none of it’s true.”

“I know,” I assure as I cup her cheeks in my hands, guiding her soft lips to mine. “This is almost over and from here on out it’s just you and I.”

“You and I,” she echoes. I kiss her forehead and her lips before pulling away.

“Stay here. M’serious.” She nods submissively, falling back as I move foward. I shuffle across the main deck, grabbing the rail, walking down the small flight of stairs to the carport before raising the hatch. I reach behind my back, pulling out my 9mm, opening the trunk.

There he lies, Tony Marietta. I smile as he lifts his eyes, matching mine; the bloodied knife already laying by his side. I take the gun, pressing it against his temple, tilting my head slightly to keep his eyes on me. “M’so glad you’re alive for this… I could make this fast,” I whisper. “But after all the shit you did, I’m gonna have you dyin’ nice and slow. Too bad I don't get to watch.” He goes to speak but all that comes out is a thick trail of blood. “I know what you're gonna say… Don’t worry. I’m gonna do what you couldn’t. I’m gonna take care of her. And that's a promise.” I toss my gun inside before slamming the trunk.

Moving to the front I step inside, firing up the engine before shifting it into neutral. I give the vintage ride a little push, the pull of the yacht sending the tires rolling. I follow the car as it plunges into the deep, dark waters, the depth snuffing out the headlights ‘til all that’s left is blackness.

Goodbye, Tony.

Epilogue

One year later…

Reader’s POV:

You roll up to Tanneyhill, flooding the big driveway with light after a late night shift at the Country Club. It’s mine now and business is booming; a new staff with increased security. Rafe took it upon himself to turn it from the dive it once was to a luxury experience, all for me. Of course I clean his money, the perfect front. Anything for my man. Stepping out of the car you make your way up the cobblestone walk to the front door, passing the bay window, watching as Rafe shuffles by in a black button down, resting two plates of food down on the table.

“Knock. Knock,” you sing as you open the door with a smile, matching Rafe’s beautiful blue eyes making him return the same.

“Babygirl,” he croons as he walks closer, helping you out of your jacket before, swathing his strong arms around you waist, looking down at you lovingly.

“Welcome home. Happy Anniversary,” you coo as you rise on your tippy toes, pressing a kiss on his lips. “I didn’t think you’d be home ‘til next week.”

He smiles against your lips, recalling his initial plan, the pair of you knowing there was no way he was gonna miss this day, even if it meant flying home from Morocco for one night only. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world, you know that, princess,” he mumbles against your mouth between kisses. “I got your favorite.”

Rafe takes your hand, leading you to the dining room, pulling out your chair, directing you to sit. You look across the table seeing all of your favorite things; the meal, the flowers, wine. Little candles glint in the middle of the table, adding to the ambiance as he runs you a glass of Chateau Lafite Rothschild, the first bottle of wine you shared on your very first night together.

"You look stunning," Rafe praises, lifting his glass to his lips, sipping slowly as his eyes drink you in.

"And you look very handsome, Rafe Cameron," you hum, resting your hand on the thigh of his Armani suit.

"You know baby, you’ve been working too hard. Are you free this week?” He asks, knowing the answer is ‘no’, but that’s not the reply he’ll get. If he’s asking you to go somewhere he’s already worked everything out for you.

"I’m always free for you, baby."

"Mhmm… Barry and his girl are gonna watch the club so you can come to Morocco with me. How does that sound?”

“So nice… You’re so good to me,” you sigh blissfully as you grab him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him to your lips. “Fuck, I love you.”

"Mmm… Yeah? Wanna sit on my lap and tell me how much you love me? We can see what happens next,” he chuckles warmly.

“Don’t tempt me, baby. You know I have no problem taking you right here,” you smile, the blonde smirking as he recalls what happened the morning before he left.

“You are so good to me,” he corrects you. "Y/n, I'm so happy you're mine. I hope you feel that.”

"I'm so happy I'm yours," you smile, spreading a little wider. “Of course, I feel that.”

"You deserve to have the very best, sweetheart. You deserve to be happy, and safe, and loved.” He leans in closer to you, his eyes meeting yours.

"I do… You’re perfect, Rafe.”

“I’m not, princess. But I wanna be for you,” he whispers, swallowing thickly. Your brows rumple as his mood shifts from flirty and light-hearted to serious. His eyes always look bluer when he’s on the verge of tears, yet, his smile contradicts it all. "I got you something."

"Yeah?"

“Mhmm,” he hums and nods as he reaches into his suit jacket pocket, pulling out a blue box.

"Oh my gosh! Rafe Cameron,” you gasp. “It's too much.”

"It's not, princess," he smiles softly. You reach for the box, but he keeps it in his hand, using the other to brush the tears out of his eyes.

"Rafe... Are you okay?" You whisper as you cup his cheek in your hand. He shuts his eyes, relishing in your touch, leaning into you slightly. He takes a few deep breaths before opening his eyes again.

"I’m perfect, baby.” He whispers weakly. "Umm... I'm not sure how I'm this in love with you, baby. But I am. And, at this point, I genuinely can't remember a time when I wasn't. Every night since I saw you I fall asleep with you on my mind, and I wonder if you're doing the same. I can't even comprehend losing you, or someone hurting you. I’ve said this once and I’ll say it a million times I don’t trust anyone to protect you but me and that includes your heart too. It's you, princess. It's fucking you. I can't describe it any more than that. You are the only person I want and will ever want. You make me feel safe. You make me feel loved. And since I've met you, sweetheart, you've always been that person. My girl. I can't love anyone else. And, I don't want to. So, with that being said. Y/n, will you marry me?" Rafe moves from the chair, dropping down to one knee, pulling open the box, the Tiffany engagement ring, resting in the center.

Your eyes widen, hand covering your bright, ecstatic smile. "Yes!" You squeal in delight, making Rafe let out a happy chuckle as he glides the jewelry on your finger.

"Yes?"

"Yes! Yes, Rafe! Oh my gosh. I thought it was a necklace," you gasp as you eye the ring on your finger.

"I figured, when you tried to take it from me. I got nervous," he laughs warmly, guiding you to his lips. You smile against his kiss, Rafe doing the same.

"I love you, Princess."

"I love you too, Rafe Cameron.”

Bonus smut chapter 💕

Thank you so much for reading my short story! I hoped you enjoyed it 💕🩷

Miski 🩷

tag list and masterlist on my pinned post @starkeysprincess @rafesthroatbaby @gri959 @loserboysandlithium @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @akobx @darlydixon83 @hyperfixationgirl @savayvayblr-blog @oxpogues4lifexo @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii

[winxanity-ii]

SCARLET CHAINS, GOLDEN RIDDLES

ship: kurapika x fem!sphinx!reader warnings: non-explicit ( kinda angsty/sad, but it does have a bittersweet romance, so… win?) word count: 5.3k a/n: I know i said i wouldn't do it now, but i couldn't help my self, loloo. also this piece was inspired by a tweet from Kayla Ancrum (@KaylaAncrum), where she wrote about a man who falls in love with a sphinx and solves her riddles daily. I just had to explore that dynamic with Kurapika and a Sphinx reader! Let me know what y'all think! 🖤✨

★·.·´🇭‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ × 🇭‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Revenge doesn't always bring peace; sometimes it leaves behind something far more haunting.

Kurapika had fulfilled his mission, dismantling the Phantom Troupe and retrieving the Scarlet Eyes that once belonged to his kin. He should have felt victorious, perhaps even a semblance of peace, but instead, he felt hollow, drifting aimlessly in the vastness of the world.

The weight of his chains was gone, but the burden on his heart remained.

In restless strides, he wandered the lands, searching for something he couldn't quite name—purpose, healing, or perhaps a way to finally let go of the rage that had kept him alive for so long.

The bustling city streets did little to distract him from his turmoil.

Kurapika walked among strangers, his eyes scanning the faces that passed by, not really seeing them. The chatter and noise of life around him felt distant, a muffled echo that never reached his ears.

He just got off the phone with Gon, a short conversation that was filled with concern on Gon's part. Kurapika assured him he was fine, though the words tasted like lies even as they left his mouth.

The city was filled with countless distractions—stalls selling exotic wares, street performers drawing in crowds—but Kurapika moved through it all like a ghost.

It was only when he came across a particular stand filled with unique, almost mythical items that he found himself pausing.

There were trinkets, stones carved with symbols he couldn't recognize, feathers from birds that didn't exist in any book he'd ever read, and even vials of shimmering liquid.

Something about the stand drew him in, perhaps the promise of the unknown, the mystery of it all.

As Kurapika stared at a curious amulet shaped like an eye, a voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. "You look like a young man filled with woes."

Turning, he found an old woman seated just beyond the stand, her eyes rooted intently on him.

She was small, her back slightly hunched, with eyes that seemed to look right through him. Her wrinkled hands rested on a small table, a crystal ball sitting between them.

Her presence was almost otherworldly, and Kurapika couldn’t help but feel as if she had been waiting for him.

"Your heart is heavy," she continued, her voice soft but firm, like the rustling of ancient leaves. "You have found what you sought, but now you are lost. Seeking something else, aren't you?"

Kurapika frowned, his first instinct to brush her off, to walk away. He had no time for fortune tellers or their vague prophecies. But something in her gaze held him in place.

Maybe it was the fact that she was right—he was lost, more lost than he had ever been.

Before he could respond, the old woman reached beneath her table and pulled out a worn piece of parchment. She handed it to him, her eyes never leaving his. "Take this map. It shows places where you might find what you seek. A journey is ahead of you, young man, one that may finally bring you peace."

Kurapika took the map, his fingers brushing against the rough surface. He hesitated, staring down at the faded ink and the strange symbols marking various locations. "What kind of journey?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

The old woman smiled, a mysterious curve of her lips. "One that will lead you to the answers you need, not the ones you want. Follow the map, and you may find more than you ever hoped for."

Kurapika glanced at the map again, the markings seeming to shift under his gaze, almost as if they were alive.

He had nothing left to lose.

With a nod, he folded the parchment and tucked it into his pocket, a small spark of something—curiosity, hope—lighting within him.

His travels took him far from the crowded city, into remote villages and forgotten paths.

He heard tales whispered in the dark corners of taverns—rumors of a remote island untouched by time, home to creatures that should have only existed in myths.

The locals spoke of a sphinx—a creature of immense power, wisdom, and mystery. She was said to guard an ancient temple on an isolated island, her riddles a fatal test for any who dared approach.

She could devour the souls of those who failed or offer wisdom to those who succeeded.

It was said that she embodied both mercy and cruelty, bound by the ancient rules of her riddles.

Kurapika's interest was piqued. Perhaps this creature held the answers he sought, or at least the challenge he needed.

Something to pull him out of the hollow void that had settled within him.

The island was not marked on any ordinary map, but the worn parchment he carried seemed to lead him there, the strange symbols aligning with the whispered directions he gathered from those who dared speak of the place.

And so, Kurapika found himself standing on the deck of a small fishing boat, the salty wind tugging at his hair as the island came into view—a shadow against the horizon, shrouded in mist.

He felt a strange pull, a sense that whatever awaited him there might finally give him the closure he needed. He had faced monsters before, both human and otherwise, but something about this journey felt different.

As if, perhaps, it wasn't just about finding answers—but about finding himself.

The island loomed closer, and with it, the promise of riddles, danger, and maybe, just maybe, a way to heal the wounds that revenge had left behind.

Kurapika spent the first few days exploring the island, his feet carrying him along unfamiliar paths, his eyes scanning for clues hidden among the dense forest and crumbling ruins.

He learned the lay of the land—the twisting vines, the rocky cliffs that overlooked the endless ocean, and the small creatures that scurried away at his approach.

The island seemed to breathe, its secrets waiting just beneath the surface, and he was determined to uncover them.

After days of exploring, Kurapika made his way back to the nearby village, his supplies dwindling and his body weary.

It was night by the time he arrived, the village bathed in the soft glow of lanterns, casting long shadows across the cobbled streets.

He found a small tavern at the edge of the village, its warm light spilling out onto the street, the murmur of voices inviting him in.

Kurapika entered, the scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread filling the air. He made his way to an empty table in the corner, ordering a simple meal and a drink.

The tavern was lively; villagers and travelers alike gathered to unwind, their laughter and chatter a comforting background to his solitude.

He ate slowly, savoring the warmth of the food, the taste of something other than the dried rations he had carried with him.

As he ate, he noticed a small crowd beginning to gather near the fireplace at the center of the room. The voices quieted, replaced by the expectant hush of an audience waiting for a story.

Kurapika's gaze shifted, his interest piqued as an elderly man stepped forward, his hands worn and his eyes twinkling with mischief. The storyteller cleared his throat, a smile playing on his lips as he began to speak.

"Gather 'round, gather 'round," the old man said, his voice carrying easily through the room. "I have a tale for you tonight, one of mystery, of danger, and of beauty beyond imagination."

Kurapika leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he listened.

The old man spoke of a creature, a sphinx, who guarded a temple deep within the island—a temple known as the Cave of Mysteries. He described the sphinx as both beautiful and terrifying, her eyes holding the weight of ages, her form a paradox of grace and danger.

The crowd leaned in, captivated by the tale, their faces reflecting a mix of awe and fear.

"They say the Cave of Mysteries holds treasures beyond belief," the old man continued, his voice dropping to a whisper that had the crowd hanging on his every word. "Riches enough to buy an empire, secrets that could grant unimaginable power. But the sphinx, ah, she is not easily bested. Many have tried, and all have failed—her riddles are a test of wit and courage, and the price of failure is steep indeed."

The old man finished his tale, the crowd breaking into murmurs, some laughing nervously, others shaking their heads as if dismissing the story as mere legend.

But Kurapika knew better.

He finished his meal, his mind already turning on how to find the temple and to the mysteries that still lay ahead.

The island held more than just danger—it held the promise of something he had never thought he needed.

So, driven by curiosity and the need for a challenge beyond revenge, Kurapika set off to find the temple, unperturbed by the locals' warnings of danger.

And he intended to see it through, whatever the cost.

The whispers of forgotten creatures and the hint of ancient wisdom called to him, a voice that spoke directly to the hollowness he now carried.

His feet followed the clues, ancient symbols etched into rocks and trees, guiding him deeper into the dense forest of the island.

Each step took him further from the familiar and into the unknown—a test he desperately needed.

The journey was arduous, the air thick with the scent of wild vegetation and the distant echo of creatures unseen.

Kurapika's senses were heightened; every sound, every rustle in the underbrush kept him alert.

Anticipation built within him, a sense that something lay ahead—something that might offer answers, or at least a distraction from the gnawing emptiness left by vengeance.

Finally, he stood before it—the temple, a structure both majestic and haunting, half-covered in creeping vines, its stone surface carved with the same symbols that had guided him here.

The temple seemed almost alive, its golden exterior shimmering in the fading sunlight, the intricate carvings depicting stories of ancient gods and creatures long forgotten.

The entrance was framed by towering pillars, their surfaces etched with worn inscriptions, and the air was thick with an aura of both reverence and dread.

The massive doors of the temple were slightly ajar, revealing only darkness within, as if daring anyone to enter.

But at the base of the stairs sat you—the Sphinx; a creature of paradox, you embodied both grace and danger.

Your powerful form rested elegantly, your tail waving languidly in the air, each movement deliberate and filled with quiet confidence.

Your form was powerful, the body of a lioness with muscles rippling beneath golden fur, yet your face held a beauty that was almost human, framed by a mix of a wild mane and intricate braids that shimmered under the fading sunlight.

Your claws were sharp, glinting with an almost metallic sheen, a reminder of the threat you posed to anyone foolish enough to challenge you.

There was an ethereal quality to you, a faint outline of wings that shimmered in the heat, catching the light in a way that made them seem almost unreal, giving you an otherworldly glow.

Your presence exuded power—a quiet intensity that Kurapika could feel even from a distance, a force that seemed to pulse with the very energy of the island.

The power you exuded was palpable, a quiet but overwhelming force that made even the strongest foes Kurapika had faced—the Chimera Ants, the Phantom Troupe—seem almost mundane by comparison.

There was something about you—something far more enigmatic, a blend of wisdom and danger that set you apart.

But it was your eyes that captivated him most.

As those golden orbs landed on him, they shifted, narrowing into sharp, cat-like slits, assessing him with an intensity that made Kurapika's breath hitch.

They were a deep, haunting shade, filled with the weight of centuries, and they seemed to pierce through him, seeing the parts of himself he tried to keep hidden.

In your eyes, he saw a depth of knowledge that surpassed anything he had ever known, and yet there was something else—a loneliness that he understood all too well.

Intrigued and cautious, he stepped forward, his heart steady, his mind sharp.

You watched him approach, your gaze unwavering, your posture regal.

Silence stretched between you, thick with tension and curiosity. You had seen many travelers before him, men who came seeking glory or power, only to fall before your riddles, their bones now part of the island's forgotten past.

But this one was different. He moved with purpose, not arrogance, his eyes holding a quiet determination that piqued your interest.

Your voice broke the silence, echoing through the empty landscape, carrying with it the weight of ages. "Young man, why do you seek me?"

Kurapika paused, considering his words carefully. "I seek answers," he said, his voice steady. "Answers to questions I cannot yet name. I seek something beyond vengeance. Perhaps you can help me find it."

A small smile tugged at your lips—cryptic, almost amused. "Answers come at a cost," you replied. "And only those who prove themselves worthy may proceed."

Without another word, you issued him a riddle, your voice carrying an authority that demanded his attention.

"Boundless am I, beginningless and endless, forever yet never the same. I am the river that flows and the sky that fades; I am possessed by none, yet present in all. What am I?"

The riddle was complex, woven with layers of meaning that had confounded countless before him. You half-expected him to falter, to hesitate as so many others had.

But he didn't.

Kurapika listened, his eyes never leaving yours, his mind dissecting each word, each nuance. His answer came calmly, confidently, his voice unwavering even in the face of your sharp claws and powerful presence. "Time," he said, as though the riddle was a mere puzzle, a challenge he was born to solve.

For the first time in a century, someone answered correctly.

Surprise flickered in your gaze, quickly masked by your stoic demeanor.

You studied him, this young man who had dared to approach you, who had not flinched under your scrutiny. There was something about him—an emptiness, a need that mirrored your own.

You had been bound to this place for so long, your existence woven into the riddle game, your only connection to others through the trials they failed. But this one had succeeded, and by the ancient rules, he had earned a boon.

"What is your request?" you asked, your voice softer now, curious.

Kurapika thought for a moment, his eyes drifting to the temple behind you, then to the sands around your feet. "For my boon, I wish to stay here," he said finally. "To rest beside you, under the stars, and awaken unharmed. Just for a night."

Your breath caught, an unfamiliar feeling tingling down your spine. The request took you by surprise.

It was such a simple one.

Men usually asked for riches, power, or freedom. But to simply… sleep by your side?

Against your better judgment, you found yourself agreeing. Slowly, you nodded, granting him this boon.

"Very well," you said, gesturing to the smooth sand near the temple steps. "You may rest here tonight, beside me. But know this, wanderer—come dawn, the the wheel of fate turns once more and the ritual will begin anew."

Kurapika nodded, a faint smile touching his lips.

As the two of you lay down, he moved closer, settling down on the warm sands beside you, the night sky stretching endlessly above. The stars blinked into existence, one by one, as silence fell over the island once more.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt something shift—a connection, fragile yet real, formed between two lost souls seeking solace.

As the night deepened, you watched him, the quiet resolve in his features, the way his eyes softened as he gazed up at the stars.

The silvery light of the stars reflected in his gray eyes, making them seem almost ethereal, as if the heavens themselves had taken refuge within him. A slight, warm breeze rustled through the air, catching in his blonde hair and ruffling it gently, giving him an almost boyish charm.

As he drifted toward sleep, you kept a close watch, noting the softened lines of his face, how the quiet moments seemed to ease the burdens he carried. His breathing slowed, the tension in his shoulders melting away.

There was a peace in the silence between you, a sense that perhaps, in this fleeting moment, neither of you was truly alone.

But you stayed awake, keeping watch, your mind racing with questions. What kind of man asks a creature like you for something so simple, so intimate? Why didn't he fear you, not even a little?

As dawn crept over the horizon, he stirred beside you, stretching slightly before his eyes blinked open, sleepy but clear.

When he saw you watching him, he didn’t startle or flinch. Instead, he smiled—a small, weary smile that tugged at something deep in your chest.

"Thank you," he said, as if he hadn't just put his life in your hands.

You narrowed your eyes, leaning closer. "Why aren't you afraid of me?"

He paused, thinking over his answer. "I've met monsters before," he said quietly. "I've even become one, in a way. But I don't see a monster when I look at you."

A flicker of irritation sparked within you, though it was dulled by something softer. "You don't know what I am capable of," you warned, voice low.

He only tilted his head. "Maybe not. But I'd like to find out."

And so was the beginning of something neither of you could yet name—a bond forged in riddles, silence, and the unspoken understanding of what it meant to be lost.

Each day, Kurapika worked tirelessly, studying the clues you left behind, learning the nuances of your mind through each challenge in your riddles, each more complex than the last.

Each evening, as the sun set and bathed the island in a warm, golden glow, he appeared again at the temple, his determination unwavering. His intelligence and wit kept him alive, his answers keeping him just close enough to be spared as he engaged in a battle of wits with you.

And each night, he solved your riddle with a grace and precision that began to feel almost routine.

Sometimes, he even looked… amused. As if he enjoyed matching wits with you, as if your challenge was something he relished rather than feared.

You were unused to companionship, your existence long defined by solitude and duty. Yet you found yourself anticipating Kurapika's arrival each day.

You began crafting riddles with a new purpose—not simply to guard, but to challenge him in a way that would make him think, to make him understand you. You dug into old tomes, dusted off forgotten phrases, anything to see if you could stump him.

"I am born of light, yet fear its touch. I dance on water, yet drown in its embrace. I am the silent whisper, the unspoken thought. I am the dream, the hope, the despair. What am I?"

"A shadow."

And yet, time and time again, he would answer correctly, and each time, he seemed to edge closer to you—not physically, but in a way that felt far more profound.

Slowly, you allowed him into your world, seeing in him a spirit kindred to your own.

Nights became more intimate, and not simply because he rested beside you. As the stars blinked into existence above, he would sit by your side and speak of his past—of his clan, his grief, the hollow emptiness that followed his revenge.

You listened, silently absorbing each word, drawn to the depth of his pain and the resilience that had brought him here. You saw the weariness in his eyes, the way they sometimes stared at nothing, as if the world held no color for him anymore.

In return, you began to share cryptic stories of ancient times, tales woven with wisdom and longing, fragments of yourself that had remained hidden for centuries.

Your voice, though calm, carried a weight that Kurapika seemed to understand instinctively. He saw through your cold facade, sensing a deep loneliness that mirrored his own.

And so, night after night, the two of you spoke, your conversations shifting from the guarded tension of strangers to the shared musings of two souls seeking meaning.

You spoke of life, of death, of purpose, and in those moments, you realized how much you had missed the simple act of talking, of connecting.

Your dynamic shifted from hostility to mutual respect, and then to something deeper.

The more time he spent with you, the more he began to see you as something beyond a “monster.” He saw you as a being who was as trapped as he was—bound by duty, by the need to protect something, even if it came at the cost of isolation.

The nights spent under the stars became something precious. You both developed a quiet, profound romance—one that transcended physicality, one that was born out of the fragments of yourselves that you shared with each other.

Now, as he rested beside you, he no longer simply lay in the sand, separate from you. Instead, he was practically nestled against your side, his head resting on your flank, his fingers sometimes absently tracing patterns in your fur as if you were a mere cat.

It was a sight that would have been inconceivable to you not long ago—someone finding comfort in your presence, in the warmth of your body. And yet, there was a peace that settled over both of you in those quiet hours, a comfort that neither of you had known in far too long.

Though, despite your growing bond with Kurapika, you were still bound by your nature to defend your territory from outsiders.

When other travelers occasionally arrived, driven by greed or ignorance, they foolishly attempted your riddles. And when they failed—as they always did—you showed no mercy.

You devoured them with the ferocity of a true predator; the golden sands stained a deep crimson with the aftermath of their foolishness, soaking into the sand until the ground seemed to pulse with the memory of their folly.

But instead of recoiling in horror, Kurapika watched silently, his gaze calm and understanding. He never turned away, never judged you for fulfilling your duty.

Instead, he would place a gentle hand on your hide, his touch soothing as you carried out what you must, a silent guardian beside you.

This side of him fascinated you—the way he accepted you, both the monstrous and compassionate facets of your being.

There was a shared acknowledgment between the two of you—an understanding that you were a creature bound by your instincts and duties, and he was unfazed.

To him, you were not simply a monster, but something more, something deserving of compassion and acceptance.

Together, you formed a duo unlike any other—a pair, a bond between a man who understood darkness and a creature who embodied it.

Time passed as if in a dream.

Kurapika came back, night after night, even as the seasons changed. You watched his hair grow lighter, faint threads of silver weaving through the golden strands. His face, once so sharp and intense, softened with age.

The lines that creased his brow told stories of battles fought and challenges faced, but in the quiet moments with you, those lines seemed to ease.

The way he answered your riddles, too, became more thoughtful, less sharp-edged, though he still never faltered. His intelligence remained, tempered now with the wisdom of age rather than the fire of revenge.

One night, after he'd answered another riddle and claimed his boon by your side, you saw him hesitate, his brows furrowing, lips parting as if he was searching for the right words.

His eyes lingered on you, and there was a sadness in them that you’d never seen before. "Do you ever wish… for a different life?" he asked suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned away, not wanting him to see the flicker of longing in your own eyes. "A Sphinx does not wish. A Sphinx exists. That is all," you replied, your voice steady, but there was a tremor beneath the surface, a crack in the armor you had worn for so long.

He didn't respond right away, but you felt his gaze on you, warm and understanding in a way that made your chest ache. "Even monsters can wish for more," he whispered, as if confessing a secret.

The silence between you was heavy, filled with unspoken words and shared pain. You knew that he understood your longing, just as you understood his.

Though you had tried to keep your heart distant, you found yourself more attached with each passing night, each shared breath under the vast expanse of stars.

As the years passed, you noticed his struggle. His occasional lapse in memory, the way he would pause, his brow furrowed as he searched for a name that seemed just out of reach.

The way his body moved slower, the once fluid grace of his steps now tinged with hesitation.

You realized you were growing attached, and in your quiet moments, you wrestled with the strange pull he had over you, your love for him subtly guiding you to keep him close.

The realization was both terrifying and beautiful—a feeling you hadn’t expected to know.

In response, you modified your riddles, the challenges that had once been a fierce contest of intellect slowly transforming into something softer.

You wanted him to succeed, to stay by your side.

You crafted simpler riddles, designed to fit his weakening mind, riddles that spoke more of memory and heart than of cleverness. They took on a painful simplicity: "Do you remember who I am?" and "When is it not sunny out?"

You watched him wrestle with these questions, a tragic yet beautiful contrast to the man he once was.

His eyes, still filled with determination, would meet yours, and he would smile—a gentle, tired smile—as he answered.

You treasured his presence, savoring each answer, each memory shared, knowing that time was slipping away. The silver in his hair grew more prominent, his steps slower, but still, he came to you, night after night, until even the simple act of walking to the temple steps became a laborious task.

One night, as he rested against your side, his head nestled against your golden fur, you lowered your head, nuzzling him softly.

He looked up at you, his gaze tired but content, and whispered, "Thank you... for keeping me." His words were filled with gratitude, a warmth that spread through your chest, and you knew, in that moment, that you would never forget him.

Even as the inevitability of time loomed, you stayed by his side, guarding not only the temple but also the fragile, precious connection you had built.

He was no longer just a challenger, no longer just a man seeking answers—he was Kurapika, the one who had seen you for who you truly were, who had brought warmth and meaning to your existence.

One night, you posed a riddle, your voice as steady as ever: "I know not life, yet I bloom and spread; I am sightless, yet your darkest hour, I shall guide you to light. What am I?"

His answer faltered. His eyes, now clouded with age, stared at you, his once steady voice weak and trembling as he began to speak. "I... I think..." He paused, blinking, his brows furrowing in concentration, trying to grasp the answer that seemed just out of reach.

His body had grown frail, his hands unsteady, and he blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the words that had always come so effortlessly before.

You could see the confusion in his gaze, a flicker of fear that he had never shown before—a fear not of you, but of the inevitable weakness that was overtaking him.

Your heart pounded, an unfamiliar rhythm that resonated with something deep and instinctual, your animalistic side recognizing this as a cue—the beginning of the end.

A pang of sorrow cut through you, sharp and deep, as you sensed the end drawing near.

You hesitated, torn between your duty as a guardian and the emotions that had grown within you, emotions you had never imagined you were capable of.

The silence stretched between you that night, heavy with the weight of what was left unsaid, and you pondered, thinking up a riddle so simple that he could answer it even in his sleep.

Something that would remind him, and perhaps even you, of the bond you had shared.

"What is your name?" you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper, carrying the tenderness of the years you had spent together.

Kurapika blinked, and then his eyes softened, recognition flickering back into their cloudy depths. A faint smile curved his lips, tired and gentle. "Kurapika," he answered, his voice cracking, the sound almost lost in the stillness of the night.

He lay down beside you, his body settling into the warm sands, and as his breathing slowed, he reached out, his hand curling into your golden fur. You felt his fingers tighten slightly, a silent reassurance, and you lowered your head, resting it beside him.

You curled your body around him protectively, your tail wrapping gently over his legs, holding him close as if shielding him from the inevitable. The warmth of your form surrounded him, a final comfort as he drifted into the stillness of sleep.

You stayed with him, your gaze fixed on his face, watching as the life slowly faded from his eyes, his final breath a soft sigh against your skin.

The night seemed to hold its breath, the stars above flickering like distant memories, and when the sun finally began to rise, you held his body close, feeling the weight of solitude return, colder and heavier than ever.

You stayed by his side, the warmth of him slipping away, replaced by the coldness of death.

It was a pain you hadn't known was possible for a creature like you—raw, deep, and unending. And when the sun rose fully above the horizon, bathing the island in its golden light, you knew what you had to do.

In a macabre but loving ritual, you devoured him piece by piece as a way of keeping him close forever. Each bite was filled with sorrow, each fragment of him a reminder of what you had shared.

You would honor him, keep his bones, bleach them under the sun until they were as pale as the sands, and decorate yourself with them.

His ribs became part of your mane, his finger bones woven into the braids of your hair, a token of the only man who ever dared to love the monster.

Days came and went, the seasons changing once again, but you felt the emptiness like a hollow ache, a void that nothing else could fill.

The silence was unbearable, the absence of his presence echoing through the temple, through your very soul.

Beneath the temple's golden arches, you remained, gaze fixed upon the endless horizon. You waited, as you always would, watching for any soul who might bear even a glimmer of the quiet strength and resolve he had shown you.

And even though you knew he would not return, even though you had consumed his body and held his memory within you, a part of you still hoped.

Hoped for the impossible, for a presence that could bring warmth to the cold emptiness left behind.

Because as a wise person once told you, monsters, after all, could still wish.

[luminescentlyricist]

🎠 Path Paving 🌹

Carrie awoke, eyes blinking slowly. She didn’t want to greet the day, of course, but the beds not being particularly comfortable made up for any will to sleep in. Due to the nature of the troupe, lodgings were seldom given any comfort. Everyone had things to do. Movements to make. One was reluctant, though their complaints remained unvoiced. Too much happened for her to waste time on such petty little whims, much less pushing them onto anyone else to deal with.

She sat up, the sheets falling away from the top half of her body and leaving her near-bare arms to prickle with goosebumps. The sensation was a shock, seeing as she usually made sure to block her tent’s entrance as much as possible, but she chalked it up to her father’s antics. He didn’t need any permission from those he thought inferior, as the Ringmaster, even when it came to invading more personal affairs. It was a pain, yes, but something she expected. Privacy was inexistent between them due to how ‘tight-knit” Homura wanted his employees to be.

That was just code. He wanted them to be loyal to him, and letting bonds forge between those he considered pawns would just make subduing a group that much easier. So boundaries were important - just not to him. He was leagues above the rest.

His daughter’s eyes, despite still adjusting to the dim surroundings, flickered over to the entrance to work out what was actually going on. She couldn’t see much beyond the fabric, but the amount of light and noise let her know that someone had shifted it earlier in the day. Kicking the lower portion of the sheets away from her legs, she groaned aloud in protest. Ultimately, there wasn’t enough of a valid fight she could put on to halt the sun in the sky. Swinging upright and over the edge of her bed, the young performer shrugged on a jacket and slid on shoes while still fighting back a yawn.

Upon closer inspection, a small figurine of a cat with gleaming red eyes had been placed in her path to the outside world.

So it hadn’t been her father after all…

With visible relief, Carrie allowed themself to roll their shoulders and shrug away some of the tension that’d built at the prospect of meeting with their father. However good his intentions were, intimidation was something that Homura relied upon to have the upper hand in any interaction. Bending down at the waist to pick up the figure, she noticed there was a note attached with tape onto its front paw. Folded beneath the left, a trademark of only one performer she knew - if the animal itself weren’t a good enough indicator.

She placed the cat in her pocket, smoothing a finger over its head with a quiet affection. This cat was something often passed between she and its initial owner, with her notes attached to the back left paw instead. Though the distinction was unnecessary, it felt strange putting anything on the right - and thus out of the way - because of her own dominant hand. Unfolding the note, her eyes skimmed the page. It’d been many years of deciphering Kazuki’s scrawls before she was able to read them at a glance, and there were still some days she had to ask the overexcited aerialist for confirmation in person. Of course that rendered their secret communications moot, but proved necessary the irritating majority of the time.

The note itself was short, just inviting Carrie over to their tent to watch them “do something new”, with some mention of a hobby they’d picked up. She had a feeling it was more than that, but wasn’t going to deny a chance to see her friend. It had been a busy week of performances, so the little ‘downtime’ she had was precious to her. That meant neglecting herself in favour of others, unless her father had dragged her off to do some maintenance work instead. She placed it in her pocket and proceeded across the Sparkslide grounds, though her vision swept anxiously around. They didn’t want to get caught and dragged away.

One particular figure within the crowd milling around caught her eye, but she made no move to engage them because of her mission. The knife-thrower, Dahlia, had hopefully settled in since Carrie’d last seen them. They weren’t wearing their signature wig, but had been too little a blur in Carrie’s periphery for her to gauge what their hair actually looked like. Their last encounter had been less than amicable, but the performer was still coming to terms with the fact that it hadn’t been a nightmare. She was all too willing and eager to forget the details of almost being skewered by the knife-thrower. They were a friend, after that, but the young woman wasn’t quick to trust others in general. Especially not when her father had his claws in all affairs.

Eyes falling to the ground, Carrie dug her heels into the path for a moment of forced pause. Her mind had begun to wander, and she wasn’t sure she liked looking into the crowd’s faces. Luckily enough, she knew the way to Kazuki’s tent with her eyes closed. Instead, she made the rest of the journey there with gaze trained at her feet, arm held protectively to both shield her vision and prevent her bumping into anyone on the way there. Something did run into her path, a streak of black with pale eyes, but she’d not processed it was a cat until she’d reached her destination. They often followed Kaz around, almost as if protecting them, and it was as if they knew Carrie herself was no threat. She had enough scrapes and bruises from her daily practices to make up for the lack of claw marks, however.

Her luck was famously bad, and the black cats were just the cherry on top. Grimacing at the thought of having to nurse more scratches, she knocked on the panel of wood that served to shield the tent’s entrance from onlookers. Hers had been shifted earlier by the very aerialist she sought. They didn’t particularly mind if they were turned away, but being outside made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. The sound of clicking heels grew louder, soothing any worries, and she was soon greeted by the familiar face of Kazuki at the doorway. Their cotton-candy dyed hair was duller than normal, presumably due to lack of supplies at the troupe’s current location, but their smile was vibrant as ever. 

“Kaz, you know you don’t have to barge into my tent while I sleep… It’s kinda creepy.”

Carrie only said this as a way of greeting her friend, a gentle smile playing at her lips. They took it with grace as always, a wide grin on their own face as they stepped away from the doorway and allowed their friend inside. So she sat, picking her way through a strewn path of silks, hoops and all manner of other tricks scattered across the floor. She’d no doubt that Kaz had a reason to be messy at all times, mainly when it came to laying out their thoughts in a more tangible manner to sort through - a method Carrie herself often employed - but had no intention to trip over so soon.

She thought there were things to discuss.

“Of course I don’t! But where’s the fun in that?”

Kazuki was lucky he was hard to be mad at. Their smiles and apologies both were genuine at all times, and it was remarkably hard to find someone so precious. Still, Carrie waited in a stunned silence before digging around in her pocket to break the stilted atmosphere. Pulling out the cat, she set it gently down on a cluttered side table and once again pet it on the head a few times.

“You wanted to show me something, right? A new move or another dubious hobby? I don’t think we have much time, so you better make this quick.”

She murmured, brows furrowing. Carrie hadn’t intended to be rude, but her words weren’t the best. Truthfully, her heart was hammering in her chest, and she couldn’t quite figure out why. Kaz was preoccupied, wringing their hands in a distracted manner and refusing to look their companion in the eye. Their expression had fallen similarly to the other’s, but they didn’t want to show outward concern to Carrie so openly and cause them more worry. If anyone was aware just how fragile Carrie could be when it came to panicking about other peoples’ safety instead of their own, it was Kaz. So, being a performer by nature, they forced a smile back onto their lips and silently gestured for their friend to follow them outside the tent.

Picking their way through the bushes, the aerialist followed a simultaneously overgrown and well-worn path for a few minutes. Pushing lightly against a trellis, the large structure yielded to his touch only enough to swing on rusted hinges. These had been covered by leaves, positioned accurately enough that no prying eyes would glimpse the metal beneath. They spared a glance backward only to check that their companion hadn’t fallen, sighing gently but otherwise refusing to speak until they’d led her away into the clearing behind the ‘gate’.

There lay roses.

Bushes upon bushes filled the area, each in its own stage of development and bloom, with countless fallen petals cushioning the pair’s footsteps. The scent was enough to make Carrie’s eyes water, but it wasn’t a bad thing. For a moment, she remained in a state of shock, the drone of their many friendly pollinators remaining the only constant sound in the surrounds. A tear ran down her cheek, and the first movement she made was wiping it away before Kaz could see. She knew that her friend had created the scene, due to how often the cats had hissed at her when she tried to move around the back of the tent.

“It’s beautiful, Kaz. Thank you.”

Their voice was little more than a whisper, nearly reverent in tone. Though they knew it wasn’t just for them, the sight of so many roses made their heart ache. The flowers were special to them because of Kazuki, after all, and she had a feeling he knew that. There would have been little reason for them to risk bringing the other into their private space if that weren't true.

Though the aerialist was anything but secretive, keeping the flowers away from anyone that might’ve killed them was of utmost priority. They had to flourish, and it was a private joy that he hadn’t wanted the Ringmaster to extinguish or covet for himself. There was a reason why he’d kept it from Carrie until the flowers had opened properly, despite her lack of ill will. Her bad luck was just the thing that would nullify the hard work they’d put into their garden. 

Though the troupe would come to move from their current location, taken by the needs of the Ringmaster for entertainment, it would continue to bloom through rain and shine for a few moments longer. That was more than enough, because Kaz had always had no trouble leaving things behind. The second performer, engrossed in the sights before her, had chosen to stay. She wasn’t moving, quiet breaths solely displaying her liveliness. 

Creeping ivy tendrils, growing to support the latticed roses, had spread in equal measure beneath the petals. They would climb, indiscriminate, around anything that looked stable enough. The aerialist was aware of this. They kept themselves elevated, stamping their feet occasionally to ward off the plants. They were almost scared of him for a reason he couldn’t explain. Plants weren’t sentient, after all.

However, they watched as ivy coiled itself around Carrie’s legs, thinking no harm would come of it. But she didn’t react, frozen with that gentle smile on her lips. A realisation hung in the air, stronger than the perfume of the roses.

Carrie could no longer move forward when Kaz was by her side.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod Men with a Monster!Reader (PT. 2)

Requested: No

Warnings: ✨Spice✨, Somnophilia, Human Consumption, some traditionally Female monsters but I wrote them GN

Alex - Naiad

Alex was on a mission in the heart of a deep and dense forest when he found you, having gotten separated from his team and left stumbling through foliage and low hanging tree branches. And then he found you. You were naked and splashing around in a river that was so clear that he could see everything. You seemed to be oblivious to his presence, your humming mixing with the sound of rushing water as you moved around.

Then you turned to him, and he was liked that your eyes completely white, ears slightly pointed at the ends, a faint shimmer like glitter on your cheeks. You stared at him and he stared back, entranced by your gaze and your beauty.

And then you beckoned him closer, and it felt like his whole brain just shut off, barely even taking the time to strip himself of his gear before he was wading through the surprisingly tall water just to get to you, watching you coyly swim backwards, a mischievous grin on your face.

It would take him a moment to catch you and when he did, it was only because you let him. Let him haul you into his arms and breathe against your face,let him run his hands over your body, cup your face and kiss you so sweetly that it could make someone cry. But all it did to you was make you hum, soft and pleased against his lips, letting him drag you to shore and invade your body, all while scraping sharpened nails down his chest and back, marking him for all the nymphs that surrounded your river to see.

Your human now. You weren’t letting him go back to his people anytime soon.

Alejandro - Succubi

Bad dreams were frequent for Alejandro. And if he wasn’t having them, then he got nothing. It was disappointing but he couldn’t escape into a more peaceful reality, even for just a few short moments, but such was his life. That was, until he started having those dreams.

At first he dismissed them as a fluke, a one in a million. It had been so long since he had had a wet dream that he was sure he wasn’t going to have it again.

But then it came again.

Dreams of you, someone he had never even met, under him. Splayed open and whining, clutching at him, calling for him, begging for him. It went straight to his cock, leaving him aching and dripping, covered in his own cum when he’d shoot up in bed in the morning. He didn’t understand.

It was affecting his day to day life too. He was more tired and that was affecting his attitude. He became more snappish, stricter, crueler almost. And there was this feeling on his chest, like someone was nuzzling against him all the time. And when he laid down it felt like he was being crush by something.

But today he was determined to get his rest, taking two of the sleeping pills his doctor had prescribed him (even though the bottle said only one), and curled in on himself like a baby, trying to ignore that feeling in his chest as he drifted to sleep.

Only he dreamt again. But this time it was different. He could tell he was more awake this time as he pounded into you from behind, bullying his cock into your entrance as you cried and writhed, trying to fuck yourself back against him, calling his name. Alejandro. Alejandro. Like it was some sort of prayer for safety as the room around you crumbled, revealing the truth to his eyes as he awakened.

You, speared open on his cock, wide eyed and clearly shocked at seeing him awake. He was certainly surprised as well. Of all the things that he expected, this was not one of them. He would have liked to pretend that you were some pervert, some lunatic that broke into his room, but your horns and tail were a dead giveaway that this was not anything of the normal variety. Especially with how your tail kept rubbing against his leg like some sort of needy pet.

He flips you under him, smirking at your squeak as he starts rolling his hips, watching you go cock dumb for him as he uses your body to his liking, determined to pay you back for all the sleepless nights that you had caused him. It was only fair after all.

Horangi - Kumiho

His things were going missing. And when they weren’t going missing, they were being moved. It was Horangi’s only clue that something was different than usual. It felt like someone was constantly shifting the world just a little bit to the left every time he turned his back or did so much as blink. It was the most annoying experience he had ever had the displeasure of enduring.

Everyone was subject to his wrath while this was happening, even his superiors. Demanding to know who was playing these “pranks” on him and why they would do such a thing. Everyone vehemently denied having any part in what he was saying but it did little to deter Horangi from interrogating each and every one of them to no avail. Eventually he got sent home to calm the fuck down while his superiors investigated.

But when he went home and found that these same events were still happening, he knew something was off. No way any of his teammates had managed to sneak home with him, let alone stay hidden. This was his home, he knew every nook and cranny of this base, down to its very foundation. If anyone was here, anyone human, he’d know.

Cue a ransacking of his own home, throwing around clothes and knick knacks to get to any sort of hiding spot in his home, checking every possible entrance and exit, a man gone mad in an attempt to find someone that wasn’t actually there.

Or so he thought, until he felt something hard drop onto his head and bounce onto the floor beside his feet. He looked down, looking at the shimmering and glowing marble by his feet, bending down to carefully pick it up. He….was sure that he didn’t own anything like this.

Something brushed against the back of his neck when he stood back up and he immediately whipped around to face it, surprised to come face to face with a….was that a tail? It was definitely a tail. A tail that was connected to a human being when he looked up slowly, your eyes wide at getting caught red handed, all nine of your tails fluffed up in panic.

Well….that explained that at least.

Keegan - Ghoul

Keegan was visiting the graveyard when he met you, flowers in hand for the mother he barely remembered at this point, just another loss that ached in his chest. He was late today, so late that the stars were shining in the sky and he needed a flashlight to see anything. The graveyard was technically closed but it was easy to hop the fence, even with a bouquet and a flashlight in his hands. He made a note that he should talk to the owner about upping security.

The walk was short to his mother’s grave but to him it felt like an eternity, especially when he kept hearing the rustling of bushes and twigs snapping, likely some sort of rabbit or deer but he was still on guard from all his time in the military.

Only, as he grew closer, he realized that he could hear a different cracking sound, something he couldn’t quite place, especially when the sound of slurping followed it. It became all the more clearer when he was but a few feet from the grave he planned to visit, a giant mound of dirt laying on top of it while there was a hole in the one beside it.

He peered slowly into the hole, shining his flashlight down and seeing….a person. You. An arm in your hand that you were ferociously tearing at with your teeth, mouth covered and dripping with blood. So busy with your feast that it took a minute before you realized that you were being watched. You turned your head slowly, following the light up to see him just….standing there.

He was in shock, especially now that he could see your dagger-like teeth. And then you were hissing and he was reminded of an alley cat he had cornered once as a small child, wanting to pet it. It had not gone well then, and it would surely not go well now. He slowly backed away but stayed close by, watching you carefully crawl out of your hole, arm tight in your jaw’s grip, watching him warily as you start to shovel the dirt back into the hole.

You watched him, he watched you.

And then you scampered off, startling him with your sudden movement. He could do nothing but stare dumbly at the direction you had run in, wondering what exactly you were.

And how he could encounter you again.

[cera-writes]

Can I get a Fox Movies!Kurt Wagner x a Gn!reader who has a space mutation and likes singing?

Basically just an obnoxious theater kid with space powers✨💫

A/N: yeah! Love this! <3 Pairing: Kurt Wagner x gn!Reader Tags: just cute fluff, bonding, singing together, silly antics

Kurt Wagner wasn't sure what to make of you. You were new to the X-Mansion, a whirlwind of glitter, musical numbers breaking out in the hallways, and a smile that could light up the Danger Room. You constantly defied gravity, flitting around like a particularly enthusiastic hummingbird, all thanks to your mutation. You could manipulate the space around you, teleporting in short bursts and creating shimmering pockets of anti-gravity. Professor Xavier had taken you in after a brush with a particularly nasty Sentinel incident, your cheerful defiance a beacon in a dark time.

Then there was your relationship with Nightcrawler and somehow, you gravitated towards him. You’d corner him after training, bombarding him with questions about his unique abilities and demonic good looks (which, to your delight, actually made him blush).

One particularly rainy afternoon, you found him surprisingly brooding by the window. Rain lashed against the glass as he turned to look at you with a small smile. Hesitantly, you approached, a boombox clutched in your hand.

“Hey Nightcrawler,” you chirped, your voice laced with concern. “Having a crappy day?”

He sighed, a wisp of smoke and shadows emanating from around him. “Just… thinking is all.”

With a flourish, you hit play. Upbeat music filled the room, the music at odds with the gloomy atmosphere. Nightcrawler raised an eyebrow.

“What’s this?”

“Distraction therapy!” you declared, a grin splitting your face. “Come on, Kurt! Dance and sing with me!”

He watched, bemused, as you danced around the room, belting out the lyrics with gusto. Another small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Maybe, just maybe, a little bit of obnoxious cheer was exactly what he needed.

As the final notes faded, you struck a dramatic pose, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“So? How was that? Not too shabby, right?”

Nightcrawler chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. “You’re… something else, Y/N.”

You beamed. “That’s what they all say! Now come on, let’s put on a real show for the others. I’ve been working on a space opera number, and I think Colossus would make a killer Darth Vader.”

Nightcrawler shook his head, but a smile lingered on his face. Maybe having you around wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe, just maybe, he could learn a thing or two about embracing the spotlight from the most enthusiastic theater kid in the X-Mansion.

[im-akira]

Joel Miller x F!Reader | "𝐼'𝑚 𝐴𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑆𝑖𝑑𝑒"✨

Summary: Joël was always there by your side, supporting you when you needed it the most. However, on that night, it was him who needed you.

Based on the refrain of "I'm Always by Your Side" by John Park.

Warnings: established relationship, grief, guilt, fluff, lots of soft Joel Miller Do not: claim, repost, copy, or translate my stories anywhere else. Notes: the chapter is quite short, but I wanted to place this little one here. I hope you'll enjoy it!

I apologize in advance but English is not my mother tongue. 💙 ~*.♪。★*・゜・＊♪*.♪。★*・゜・＊♪*.♪°~

"When I walk down a road I don't know well and I'm full of scare and doubt."

Today was a special day: Sarah's birthday. At the same time, Tommy had organized a party with the help of Ellie and Y/N. There wasn't a particular reason to celebrate, but for some of Joel's close ones, it was evident that this night wouldn't be easy for him.

Being the reserved man he is, Joel acted as usual by withdrawing from the commotion and the people. He stayed alone in his garage, surrounded by his tools.

His wife, Y/N, was well aware that he wouldn't be present at the party to take his mind off things. She knew the place where he found refuge when his nightmares and doubts decided to torment him again.

She found him alone, sitting on a chair, his gaze completely lost in front of him.

The moonlight gently slid through the garage window, revealing a scene that contrasted with the usual bustling life within. Y/N's gaze fell upon Joel, alone in the midst of this typically animated space. But on that night, his silhouette was hunched, shoulders sagging under the invisible weight of his thoughts.

A shiver of concern ran through Y/N as she saw him like this, lost in the labyrinth of his dark thoughts. His eyes, usually filled with a glimmer of assurance, now seemed to reflect a despair she had already seen on that night when everything had changed. The tools, usually his pride and passion, lay abandoned, silent witnesses to the inner storm tormenting him.

She approached hesitantly, fearing to shatter the fragile silence enveloping the room. Her heart tightened at the sight of the one who had always been her rock, now vulnerable and broken.

- Joel, she had said softly, pronouncing the name like a caress in the darkness.

"When you called my name, I can see the light, guiding me home like the stars in the night."

- I'm here, she had whispered, No matter what you're going through, you don't have to do it alone.

He had turned slowly, his eyes meeting hers with deep melancholy. A silence lingered between them, charged with unspoken emotions. Y/N felt powerless in the face of his torment, searching for words that could bring some semblance of comfort.

His gaze wavered, a mix of emotions passing through his tired eyes. There was sadness, gratitude, and something else, something he might have been trying to hide. But in that moment, within the halo of moonlight, their hearts communicated more than words ever could.

- I know our little butterfly is missed by you, a pain we've shared, but I sometimes feel you're trying to bear it alone, to protect us. But Joel, I want you to know that I'm here, that we're together. Your pain is mine too, and there's no need to conceal it.

Y/N's hand found Joel's, and he gently clasped her fingers. Y/N continued, trying to make him understand that they were there for each other even in the darkest moments.

- I don't want you to think you're protecting me by keeping this pain at a distance. We've gone through it as parents, as partners. And even though the years have passed, there's no limit to the time I'm willing to spend listening to you, supporting you. We're a team, Joel. And together, we can face anything.

"I think of you, I think of you. I'm lost without your arms around me."

Joel's eyes shimmered with contained emotion, and Y/N felt he finally understood what she was trying to convey. In a peaceful silence, they continued to gaze at each other for a brief moment, hand in hand, finding comfort in each other's presence.

The love story between Joel and his wife, woven carefully over the years, was an example of unconditional support and deep companionship. They had weathered storms and celebrated moments of joy together, forming a duo that complemented each other perfectly.

Joel had always been a pillar for his wife, supporting her with endless patience and kindness through life's ups and downs. When she faced difficult times, he had been her rock, offering a shoulder to cry on, words of encouragement, and a reassuring smile to guide her through the darkness. He had been her confidant, her best friend, and her partner in all things.

But on that night, roles seemed to be reversed. While the outside world was enveloped in darkness, it was Joel's soul that was darkened by tormenting thoughts and complex emotions. He had always tried to stay strong for his wife. However, even the strongest need a moment of vulnerability, a space where they can let their guard down and share their deepest fears.

"I'm always by your side, my love and this love's entirely for you."

Silence had become a language of its own between them, a language they had learned to speak with their hearts over the years. As Y/N gently spoke about the pain they had shared, the loss they had faced, emotions swirled in a whirlwind of thoughts and memories. Joel looked at her, her words imbued with understanding and love, and he knew she was right. He had kept this pain to himself, believing he had to bear it alone to protect her. But looking at her, seeing the caring in her eyes, Joel realized how wrong he had been.

The weight Joel had carried for so long seemed to lighten as she spoke. He felt the walls he had erected to shield himself slowly crumbling, making way for the vulnerability he had carefully concealed.

And then, in that peaceful silence, their gazes locked, conveying more emotions than words ever could. Joel opened his arms, inviting her into his embrace. Y/N nestled against him, her head resting on his shoulder. Joel could feel her warmth, her steady breath, and he was struck by how present she was, how willing she was to share her pain, their pain.

"Cause I worry too much, all my fears amplify. How could I live without you?"

Words seemed unnecessary in that moment. Everything Joel felt, everything he wanted to express, was in that embrace. It was as if Y/N had found the fragile seams of his heart and strengthened them, creating a bond stronger than ever between them.

Joel allowed himself to let go, to release the tears he had held back for so long. It was a moment of liberation, of connection, and he felt enveloped in his wife's love.

Through this silent embrace, they transcended words. They had found a way to share their deepest emotions, to show that they were there for each other, that they could face any pain together.

And in that moment, Joel knew he no longer had to carry this pain alone. Y/N was there, ready to share it, ready to be his support, and he felt deeply grateful for the love they shared.

"Nothing can stop us, no one can hurt us."

"I'll be forever in your arms, I'm always by your side, my love."

"From now on, my everything's for you, with you, from you."

"And this love's entirely for you, with you."

~*.♪。★*・゜・＊♪*.♪。★*・゜・＊♪*.♪°~

If you want to be marked on my future stories, let me know in the comments. Thank you again for reading ! 😊

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

💎 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Herbalist's Journal
Wondrous item, uncommon ___ This old, leather-bound book is caked in dirt. Inside is an almost unreadable scrawl of words, written in Common, that go into remarkable depth about herbology. If you spend 48 hours over a period of 6 days or fewer studying the book's contents and practicing its guidelines, you gain proficiency with the herbalism kit. If you were already proficient with the herbalism kit, you instead gain the feature below. The manual then loses its magic, but regains it in 10 years if it's buried in soil for the duration. 𝙀𝙣𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙋𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣. You can spend 25 gp of materials—a collection of rare herbs and roots—to enhance a "potion of healing." Doing so requires 1 hour of work using an herbalism kit, which can be done over the course of a short rest. At the end of the hour, the potion's color changes to a shimmering green. It remains this color for 7 days; for the duration, a creature that drinks the potion uses d6s, instead of d4s, when determining the number of hit points the potion restores. This feature can also be used to enhance a "potion of greater healing" (50 gp of materials), a "potion of superior healing" (75 gp), or a "potion of supreme healing" (100 gp). ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!